


Furmetal Alchemist

by lbk_princen



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Canon Timeline, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Chimera Edward Elric, Edward Elric Swears, Gen, Maes Hughes Lives, Nina Tucker Lives, POV Multiple, Parental Maes Hughes, Winry Rockbell has ADHD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 100,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22706725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lbk_princen/pseuds/lbk_princen
Summary: In the middle of the night, Edward and Alphonse pay a visit to Shou Tucker, and discover the Sewing Life Alchemist in the middle of preparing a transmutation that would permanently fuse his daughter Nina with Alexander, her big tabby cat. Ed's decision in that moment will irrevocably change the path of Nina's life.(tags will be updated as new chapters are posted)
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric & Ling Yao, Edward Elric & Nina Tucker, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang, Edward Elric & Winry Rockbell, Maes Hughes & Roy Mustang, Van Hohenheim & Pinako Rockbell
Comments: 157
Kudos: 443





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this idea was originally just a joke, but then it stayed in my head and demanded i write it so here we go i guess!!! 
> 
> To paraphrase John Mulaney: if you think this is silly, obviously I wrote it ironically, tch. If you take it seriously and enjoy it, then I wrote it very earnestly, thank you.

Assessment day was coming. A numb sort of dread buzzed through Shou Tucker’s body as he sat in his study with his head in his hands. He could faintly hear shrieks of laughter from outside -- didn’t those kids know how to be quiet? He had to think, and he couldn’t _think_ with all that _noise._

He remembered his wife, how _noisy_ she was. How quiet and easy to manage she became, _after._ Until she died, that is.

Assessment day was coming, and Shou wasn’t about to let his life go spiralling back down the drain. He had no choice. It was time to see through the research he’d secretly been working on these past two years, waiting for the perfect moment to use it. In all honesty, he’d been waiting for Nina to reach a certain age; the human brain is incredibly adaptive in the earlier stages in life, and Shou theorized that a younger chimera would be able to take on the foreign animal matter more easily, stabilizing faster and more easier to work with after. He wanted to make sure he didn’t start _too_ young though, or else the speech processing capabilities would be too underdeveloped to be significant. He supposed that how she was now would suffice. She spoke in full sentences after all, even if the words she used were simple. She could communicate ideas easily enough -- she was a smart girl, like her father. 

It wasn’t the experiment he had planned, but it would still provide useful data, and more importantly, it would see him to the other side of his assessment with ease.

Shou began clearing space on the floor of his lab, preparing the floor for his array. Now he just needed to find where he had marked down the results of Nina’s last measurements...

~~~

It was 11:00pm, and Ed couldn't sleep. He had been puzzling and puzzling over a bit of information that he'd read that day in Mr. Tucker's library, but he felt like he was missing something. Maybe he could just pop over and peek at the book one more time? He hated that feeling of not understanding, of something just beyond his cognition, something he knew he could grasp if he could only remember the next part of the damn passage. 

"I'm going back to Tucker's place," Ed declared, sitting up and throwing his blanket off his legs.

"Brother?" Al questioned from where he was sitting with his back to the wall across the room.

"Somethin's been bugging me and at this rate I won't get any sleep, so I'm just gonna make a quick visit and put my mind to rest."

"It's the middle of the night!" Al admonished as Ed pulled on his trousers. "Mr. Tucker is probably asleep."

"He strikes me as an all-nighter kinda guy," Ed argued. "I'll be quick! You don't even have to come with me."

Al shook his head, the helmet clinking off the armor's collar. "Of course I'm going to come with you."

Ed rolled his eyes but didn't argue. He slipped his hair into a ponytail just to keep it off of his shoulders, and then the brothers set out for Tucker's place. It was an easy, familiar walk by now, even by darkness. When they reached the front door, none of the windows were lit.

"It doesn't look like he's up," Al said tentatively. "We should probably wait until the morning."

Ed wasn't convinced. "We came all this way, let's at least knock."

"But what if we wake Nina?" Al pressed.

Ed hesitated for barely a second, his hand raised a few inches off the metal door. Then he scoffed, "You say that like it would be the end of the world. She'd probably just be excited to see us."

Ed knocked. Five seconds passed. Ten seconds. Ed knocked again, harder. 

"Mr. Tucker?" he called out. "It's the Elrics! Sorry to bother you so late!"

No response.

Ed and Al looked at each other. Ed shrugged, and tried the door.

"Brother, _wait,"_ Al hissed, reaching out to stop Ed, but the door was already swinging open. Ed stuck his tongue out at Al and stepped inside.

The halls were completely dark, the shadows clinging to the bare walls like heavy drapes. The streetlights from outside only lit a few feet into the foyer. The floor creaked as Ed made his way in, keeping his hand on the wall to guide himself through the darkness. Al followed behind, if his clanking footsteps were anything to go by.

“We shouldn’t be here, we don’t have permission!” Al pleaded.

“I’m pretty sure Tucker’s exact words were, ‘you boys are welcome anytime,’” Ed tossed back carelessly. “I really don’t think he’ll mind as much as you worry he will -- hey look!”

Ed stopped, and let out an _oof_ as Al walked into him from behind. He turned his head to glare at his younger brother, rubbing the back of his head where Al’s protruding chestplate had knocked into him.

“Sorry,” Al said, not sounding very sorry at all.

Ed grumbled and pointed to where he could see yellow light bleeding out from under a door a little ways further down the corridor. “See that? Told ya he would be awake.”

“That’s Mr. Tucker’s lab isn’t it? I don’t want to disturb him if he’s working.”

Ed nudged his brother with his elbow. “C’mon, Al, you’re not even a little bit curious about what he’s working on?”

“I guess I am,” Al admitted. “Come on then. Since we already broke in we should probably say hi.”

Ed snorted and opened the door, revealing the stairs to the basement, lit by a single electric bulb. “It’s hardly breaking in if the door was unlocked.”

Al shrugged instead of answering, and as the brothers descended the stairs, they heard the unmistakable voice of Nina drifting up to meet them.

“Daddy, I’m tired…”

“I know you are, but it’s time to start the game!” replied Tucker’s voice, muffled by the lab door.

Ed and Al glanced at each other. They had just about reached the door.

“What kind of game?” 

“You’ll see. Stand there and hold Alexander for me -- that’s a good girl.”

Alarm spiked through Edward, and he wasted no time slamming open the door, his heart hammering against his ribs. The scene before him filled him with terror -- Tucker, kneeling beside a transmutation circle, Nina and Alexander at its centre. 

At Ed’s intrusion, Tucker and Nina both looked at him in surprise, although Nina’s expression quickly morphed into joy. “Big brothers!” she exclaimed, taking a few steps towards them, the fluffy form of Alexander the cat still clutched to her chest. Tucker held out his arm, preventing her from moving out of the circle. 

“Now, now, Nina. Remember the rules of the game. You have to stand very still for daddy.”

“Mr. Tucker, what are you doing?!” Al demanded, aghast. “That circle -- you can’t!”

Shou Tucker's eyes were wild in the flickering candlelight. “Of course I can,” he said, an unsightly smile pulling on his face. “I have to. Progress demands it of me. You’re about to witness scientific history in the making! Aren’t you boys lucky.” He started reaching down.

“BASTARD, I WON’T LET YOU!” Ed screamed as he launched himself at Tucker, fury burning through his veins like lightning. 

“NINA, MOVE!” Al shrieked at the same time. 

The shouting provoked Alexander to squirm out of Nina’s grasp, and she was too shocked to do anything but stand there. Ed collided with Tucker just as the Sewing Life Alchemist had touched the edge of the circle, activating it. Blue light raced around the array, coursing through the complex chalk lines and lighting Nina’s frightened expression from below. A crackle of alchemical energy began to rise up from the glow. Time seemed to slow as Ed pushed himself up off of Tucker’s prone form.

Interrupting a transmutation once it had already begun was a good way to induce a rebound. Ed couldn’t let that happen, because the odds of it affecting Nina as _well_ as Tucker were high. He had no time to think. Frantically, _desperately,_ Ed clapped his palms together in a familiar motion, forming his own circle even as the alchemical reaction edged closer and closer to Nina’s body. With the energy from his own circle, Ed sought not to _stop_ the transmutation, but to _change_ it. He called upon the memory of when he had managed to grab Al’s soul before it could pass through the gate -- _take me instead,_ cried Edward’s soul, reaching out. As it did, Ed reached his real hand out into the static and grabbed Nina by the arm. He managed to twist his body, using the momentum to propel himself forward and Nina back all at once -- he flung her away from himself and she landed with a cry outside the circle.

The static closed in on him, instantly coursing through his entire body. Alexander yowled. Ed screamed.

The sensation of being deconstructed was one he had experienced twice before, but this was _so much more painful_ . He felt like his head was splitting open, like his spine was on fire; his skin _burned_ and his eyes _burned_ and worse than the deconstruction was the _reconstruction._ Keratin and collagen attaching themselves to him in new places, skin wrapping muscle wrapping bone, blood vessels threading through the new flesh.

At this point, the two shrieks had become one, and when the lightning finally retreated from his body, Ed collapsed on the ground. His muscles involuntarily twitched. Soreness radiated through him. His throat was raw from screaming.

“BROTHER!” 

Big, heavy hands closed around Ed’s shoulders and caused the lingering pain to shoot through him more acutely. Purely on instinct, Ed opened his mouth and _hissed._

_Pain, grabbing, stay away, stay away._

The hands released him, and Ed took that as his cue to pass out.


	2. Chapter 2

Al let Ed go and stared, horrified, at his brother’s transformed appearance. Sprouting from behind his temples were two feline ears, golden-furred. Trailing out from under Ed’s coat was a tail, slender and medium-furred, exactly as Alexander’s had been. 

“Ed,” Al choked out. When Ed didn’t move, not even his eyelids, Al felt panic well up inside of him. “Ed? Edward?! PLEASE WAKE UP!” Unable to help himself, Al grabbed his brother again, shaking him. Thankfully, Ed reacted, his head jerking to the side and his tail curling towards the ceiling before going limp once more. He was still breathing, though it was ragged.

Assured that Ed wasn’t about to die, Al lifted his hands from his brother and turned his furious gaze to the one responsible for this fiasco.

“Now isn’t this something,” Shou Tucker breathed in amazement, picking himself up off the floor and adjusting his glasses.

In seconds, Al had Tucker by the front of his shirt, lifting him clear off of the ground. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BROTHER?!” Al demanded, his voice pitched up in anger. “How could you do such a thing?!”

“How could I not?” Tucker countered, still grinning.

A loud sob broke Al’s attention, and both he and Tucker glanced at Nina, who was sitting on the floor with tears in her eyes, clutching at the arm Ed had grabbed her by.

“Wh-what’s ha-happening?” Nina cried. “Why are you y-yelling at daddy? Wh-what happened to b-brother? Where’s Alexander?”

Al felt his resolve tremble. He was so _angry_ at Tucker, he wanted to just hurl the man against the wall and punish him for daring to harm his older brother -- but he couldn’t. He couldn’t make Nina watch that. It was too terrible to even think about. “Your dad has done something truly awful, Nina,” Al said in a low voice. “Alexander is gone, and brother is… he’s…” 

“I have to say, this result is completely unexpected,” Tucker prattled on, seemingly unfazed by the fact that Al still had him essentially by the throat. “I have to examine him, to see exactly how the transmutation changed his form -- and ask him how he managed to alter the transmutation _while_ it was --”

“Shut up!” Al interrupted, shaking the man. “Just shut up! How can you talk like that?! How can you just ruin someone’s life like that and then talk about it like it’s… like he’s…”

“It’s science, Alphonse,” Tucker said, reaching up to pat one of Al’s hands. “Surely you understand.”

“Understand using human lives to experiment? No, actually, I don’t!”

Tucker threw his head back and laughed. “Oh but you do!” he exclaimed gleefully. “You and your brother both! Just look at your bodies! Human transmutation, human experimentation, what’s so different about it? You just _had_ to try it, because the possibility was there! We’re the same. We’re the same!”

“We’re NOT the same!” Al cried out in despair, forgetting his impulse control and throwing Tucker across the room. He landed heavily against a cabinet and tumbled to the floor, taking out one of the shelves as he went down, causing books and jars to crash down with him.

“Daddy!” Nina sobbed. “Please s-stop fighting!”

“...Ni...na…”

Al gasped and his helmet whipped around to Ed, whose eyes were now open, albeit unfocused. The tip of his tail was twitching back and forth slightly. “Brother!” Al cried, rushing to kneel beside him. 

“Al,” Ed choked out, recognizing his brother. _That’s good,_ Al thought, hope sparking inside him. _He still knows who I am at least._ “Nina…” Ed repeated. “Is she…?”

“Nina’s safe,” Al confirmed, glancing over to her. She was wobbling to her feet, glancing back and forth between the brothers and her father, collapsed on the ground. “You saved her, brother.”

“Good,” Ed rasped. “Tucker?”

Tucker’s head bobbed as he stirred, still dazed from impact but not quite unconscious. 

“Still a problem, unfortunately,” Al said, voice hard. “Are you okay, brother? Can you sit up?”

Ed pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing the whole time. “Sore,” he complained. “Throat hurts. I’ll be fine.”

Al nodded, and he couldn’t keep from staring at Ed’s new ears, the way they were pulling slightly in different directions, just like a cat when it’s on-guard. “We have to call someone,” Al realized aloud. 

Ed winced again, though likely not with pain this time. “Colonel Mustang,” he agreed reluctantly.

“I don’t want to leave you and Nina alone in here with him,” Al said, alarmed. “Can you make it upstairs to reach the phone?”

“Big brothers?” Nina whispered. 

Ed and Al both looked at her helplessly. Tears were streaking her face and she was hiccupping from crying so much. 

“Take her upstairs,” Ed ordered, his voice scratchy but his eyes hard. 

“But --” Al began to protest.

Ed’s ears flicked back and an inhuman growl spilled out of his chest. “Do it, Al. I’ll be fine.”

Al wanted to argue more, but he recognized the stubborn set to his brother’s shoulders. He wasn’t going to be changing Ed’s mind anytime soon. So he stood, and helped Ed get to his feet before approaching Nina. She shied away from him, fear on her face, which hurt him a little, but he understood why. She had just watched him throw her father six feet across the room like he was nothing more than a doll, after all.

“Nina?” Al said softly, lowering himself to one knee to try and appear less threatening. “It’s time to go upstairs now, okay?”

“I don’t understand,” Nina whimpered. “Is daddy going to be okay? Is brother okay? Why is Alexander gone?”

Al could feel his heart breaking a little. He was only her age when his mom had died, and he could remember all too easily the feelings of confusion and shock when someone so young experiences something so awful. “Is your arm okay?” Al asked softly, hoping to distract her from her own questions.

“It hurts,” Nina admitted with a sniffle.

Al nodded sympathetically. “Sometimes when the people we care about want to protect us, they do things that can hurt us,” he explained, offering her his hand. She hesitated for a moment, then took it, and allowed him to lift her into his arms as he continued, “and it can seem scary in the moment, but later we look back and realize that if they hadn’t done what they did, we would have gotten hurt way, way worse.”

Al heard Ed take a sharp breath, and he tilted his head just enough to catch sight of his brother, who was staring at him from where he leaned against the wall for support.

As much as Al wanted to figure out what that look meant, he had to get Nina upstairs and call the Colonel. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he murmured to the girl in his arms as he climbed the stairs.

~~~

Roy looked up from his desk as Lieutenant Havoc came into the office, stopping short when he saw his commanding officer. “Colonel,” Havoc said, surprised. “You’re still here?”

“I was just finishing up,” Roy explained, shuffling the papers spread out on his desk into one neat pile. He looked pointedly at the lieutenant. “I thought you went home an hour ago.”

Havoc smiled sheepishly and tapped the unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Forgot my lighter. And it was three hours ago -- you should really get a clock in here.”

Roy opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the phone on his desk ringing. _Who could that be, calling so late?_ He wondered, reaching for the receiver. “Colonel Mustang,” he greeted automatically.

_“We have an ‘Alphonse Elric’ calling you from an outside line, sir. Says it’s urgent.”_

Roy sat up straighter in his chair. “Put him through,” he ordered. What trouble had the Elrics gotten into now?

~~~

Nothing Alphonse could have said over the phone would have prepared Roy for what he saw in Shou Tucker’s lab. He’d seen his fair share of alchemy gone awry over the years; hell, he’d seen what the Elrics had done in their own home before they’d even washed the bloodstains out, but he still wasn’t prepared for Edward’s tired, scowling face, accented by _cat ears._ Tucker had glanced at him with a neutral expression and an unnervingly blank look in his eye when he walked in.

Roy’s gaze swept the room, taking in the transmutation circle on the floor, the broken cabinet and shards of glass scattered to the floor, and the two human occupants. Or -- well. 

“What happened here, Fullmetal?” Roy demanded, voice sharp to cover his shock.

“He was going to transmute Nina,” Edward spat, his voice low and trembling with anger. “He was going to use his own daughter to create a talking chimera.”

Roy was shocked into silence for a beat. Using a human to create a talking chimera? It made sense, in a horrible way. He shook his head. “You got in the way,” he guessed. “You took her place.”

Ed nodded, suddenly unable to meet Roy’s eyes. His tail twitched back and forth restlessly, drawing Roy’s eye. The colonel put one hand on his hip, the other coming up to rub his temple. This was already giving him a headache. Eventually he gave a sigh, and jerked his head back towards the stairs. “Alright. Upstairs, now.”

Edward narrowed his eyes. “But what about _him?_ ”

"I'll take care of it. I'll meet you upstairs."

Roy called for Lieutenant Havoc as Edward begrudgingly headed up the stairs. 

Havoc glanced over his shoulder at the way Ed had gone as he stepped into the lab. "Jeez," he said weakly, rubbing the back of his head. "Poor kid."

Roy had similar sentiments; both those boys had already seen so much hell. "Occupational hazard," he said, feigning indifference. "Choices were made tonight that neither of us fully understand. Best not to jump straight to pity -- he'll hate you if you do," Roy advised.

Havoc chuckled. "Sounds about right."

"Excuse me, Colonel," Tucker spoke up. Roy glared at him. "I believe I have something significant to submit for my assessment," he said, sounding very pleased with himself.

The urge to punch him surged through Roy, causing him to clench his fists. Instead, he ignored Tucker and ordered Havoc, "You’re on guard duty. He touches _nothing_ in here, understood?” 

“Sir!” Havoc snapped by rote, following it up with an unenthusiastic salute.

Roy found Edward upstairs in the dining room, staring at a chair like it was his sworn enemy. Eventually the boy managed to find a way to sit in the chair that accommodated his new appendage.

Roy sat, propping his elbows up on the table and lacing his fingers together in front of his face as he scrutinized Ed. 

One of Edward’s ears was facing towards Roy, the other twisted halfway back. His eyes were tired but clear. Good. It meant he wasn’t too out of it, then. “Start from the beginning,” Roy ordered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the document i originally wrote this in is titled "owo alchemist"


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Ed had finished his recount of the night's events, Alphonse had joined them, apparently finished with getting Tucker’s daughter to sleep.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, as Roy absorbed the new information. Eventually he sighed and said, “Well, Fullmetal, this is quite a mess you’re in.”

“No kidding,” Ed shot back, deadpan.

“What happens now, Colonel Mustang?” Alphonse asked.

“What happens now is I call in some MPs to properly arrest Shou Tucker,” Roy began. When neither of the brothers protested, he continued, “Unless there’s some family she can stay with, the girl will probably remain in military custody for the duration of the trial.” He noticed Edward tense slightly at that, his ears flicking backwards.

“Is this going to affect Ed’s status as a state alchemist?” Al asked, fidgeting with his fingers.

Roy held back another sigh. “Hard to say,” he replied curtly. “There is no precedent for this. I can’t guarantee how the higher-ups are going to react, but I would bet it’s not going to be all in favor of continuing to employ a chimera.”

Edward flinched at the word ‘chimera,’ and Roy bit back the apology that rose in his throat. He had to speak plainly; he had refused to handle the Elrics with kid gloves from the start, and if he softened now he knew he would lose whatever shreds of respect Ed held for him.

“So we hide it,” Edward suggested. “The same way we hide the nature of Al’s body, and the reason we are the way we are.”

“Secrets upon secrets,” Roy muttered to himself. “The good news is that the sooner we can start working on a way to reverse this, the less time you’ll have to spend hiding... What’s that look for?” Roy questioned, for Ed was staring at him, startled.

“This isn’t _reversible,_ Colonel,” Ed stated, almost angrily.

Roy’s interlocking fingers tightened around each other for a moment. “You don’t even want to try?” he asked, derisive. “I can’t believe you would just give up like that. And here I thought you were a state alchemist.”

Edward planted his hands on the table and stood up, frustration rolling off of every expression and gesture. “Fuck you, I’m not _giving up_ ,” Ed growled, and he really did _growl,_ the sound rolling up from in his chest, much deeper than the voice itself. The sound made a chill run down Roy’s spine. “It’s not as simple as attaching and reattaching something, like with automail. My biology has _changed_ at a fundamental level. I have muscle memory I never used to have,” Ed huffed, tail twitching back and forth. “The way I move, the way I _see,_ it’s all changed. It’s not just the ears or the tail, it’s my _brain._ ”

Alphonse visibly flinched at that.

“You can’t unbake a cake,” Ed stated, before sitting again.

Roy stared Edward down. “But perhaps with enough research,” he began.

Edward shook his head. “How the hell do you suggest we do that research, huh?! Got any other botched human-animal chimeras lying around? I’m not going to become a test rat for some second-rate alchemists in the military labs! So unless you have any better ideas, my best bet is what we were already looking for: the philosopher’s stone.”

“Are you _sure?”_ Roy dared, keeping his steely gaze locked on Ed. “Because you just need to say the word, and I will have a team working on this faster than you can say ’ _thank you, Mustang;’_ and I will personally oversee the research to make sure it’s as safe and ethical as possible.” His tone was just as hard as his stare -- he wanted to convince Fullmetal that he was serious.

It seemed to work, because for a moment, Ed hesitated. His ears swiveled back and forth. Eventually he looked away and said, “I appreciate that, Colonel, but no thanks. I’m sure.”

“But, Brother,” Al protested. Ed held up his hand, silencing his little brother.

“It’s fine,” Ed said quietly. “I’m glad it was me, and not her.”

~~~

It was nearly 1:00am when the MPs arrived to arrest Tucker. Mustang ordered them to take him into custody and wait at the court martial office for further instruction while he carried out an investigation of the alchemy lab. Nina was also officially taken into custody, but because she was a child and Colonel Mustang was -- well, he was Colonel Mustang -- he was able to keep her with him instead of taken by some random enlister. Ed was glad for that, at least; the last thing he wanted was to let Nina out of his sight, and he _especially_ wasn’t going to allow the officers to take her to the same place as where her father would be. _Fuck_ that.

Once Mustang had gotten whatever he needed out of Tucker’s lab, (“Evidence,” Mustang had said, cryptically, when Al asked) the four of them piled into Mustang’s car to head back to Eastern Command -- Ed in the passenger’s seat and Al holding a very sleepy Nina on his lap. As soon as they reached the building, Ed peeled off to hit the bathroom, saying he’d meet the others in Mustang’s office soon.

There were no private bathrooms available to the public (Ed would bet money that General Grumman had one for himself, the damn codger) but it was so late that Ed felt confident enough that no one would walk in on him to shrug off his coat and hang it on a stall while he took stock.

As he faced the mirror the most attention-grabbing things were the ears, of course. A few inches tall, fluffy, golden, and exactly like Alexander’s. Ed winced slightly, feeling a bit sick to know that the big, athletic tabby cat he’d been playing with only yesterday was now… _integrated_ into his own flesh. He stared at himself in the mirror with a queasy expression, experimentally swivelling his ears from side to side. The movement came naturally to him, which was more freaky than if it hadn’t. It was as much confirmation he needed that Alexander’s cat brain had been merged with his on a synaptic level, that he had this much control over muscles he previously never had. He took the time to catalogue all the differences in his body -- the sharper, claw-like nails on his hands and feet (or really, hand and foot, as his automail seemed to have been unaffected by the transmutation, which made sense, considering that the circle hadn't been prepared with someone who had metal body parts in mind), the ears, the soft, striped tail. He had fur running down his back, which rubbed oddly against the fabric of his shirt, and when Ed lifted his tank top to look at it, it was a colour somewhere between Ed’s blond and Alexander’s light gold. When he bared his teeth at the mirror he saw his canines were elongated, like fangs.

Ed gripped both sides of the sink and stared hard at his reflection. His pupils were half-constricted to vertical almond-shapes in the electric light. Exhaustion was weighing heavily on his eyes and his shoulders, and the quiet ache in his automail ports told him that rain was on the way. With a sigh, he slung his coat back on and trudged back to the Colonel’s office.

Mustang was on the phone when Ed walked in, and Al was sitting on the floor beside the empty couch. The one across from it had Nina, fast asleep, with a blanket draped over her. Ed instinctively moved towards her, filled with the inexplicable urge to _cuddle._

_Sad, resting, purring, comfort._

Ed stopped himself just short of Nina’s couch, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Brother?” Al asked softly, the armor clinking as he turned his head. “Are you alright?”

Ed clenched his fists in his coat, subconsciously kneading the fabric. “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine. Just tired,” he bluffed, turning his back to Nina. He forced himself, step by step, to cross the space and sit on the other couch. There was a pillow and a folded blanket waiting there for him.

“Colonel Mustang said we can stay here until morning,” Al said.

“Mm,” Ed hummed in acknowledgement. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“Yes, thank you.” Mustang’s voice drifted over from where he stood at his desk, facing the window with the phone to his ear. “I’ll bring over the report once it becomes a more respectable hour. Yes. That is all. Goodnight.” The Colonel turned, hung up, and looked to Ed, his face tight with displeasure. “Bad news, Fullmetal,” he said, causing Ed’s heart to sink.

“What is it?” Ed demanded, standing back up. “Don’t tell me Tucker escaped?”

Mustang shook his head. “No, he’s still locked up. It’s that hiding your body from the military may not be an option anymore.”

Ed flattened his ears, his tail twitching. “Why’s that?”

“If we’re going to put Tucker away, you’re going to need to testify,” Mustang said solemnly as he took a seat at his desk. “Not as a witness, but as the victim. He transmuted _you._ There will be no way to hide this from the military if you want Tucker to serve time.”

Ed ground his teeth together. He hated the word ‘victim,’ especially when applied to himself _._ “What happens if I don’t testify?” he growled.

Mustang raised his hands to his chin, leveling Ed with a cold stare. “I had him arrested for suspicion of attempted human transmutation. The array on the floor was enough for that, but without you, there is no proof of an actual crime. Decoding his research notes will help, but even with it he will likely just lose his state certification. Ultimately I see him being acquitted, and returning home with his daughter.”

Ed bristled at that, his ears flattening as far as they would go and the hair all along his spine and tail poofing up. “Like hell I’m ever gonna let that happen,” he snarled.

Mustang smirked humorlessly. “I thought you might say that. So, you will testify, and then I will see what I can do about letting you keep your state certification. If it goes above my head there’s only so much I can do, but…” The colonel sighed and tapped a finger against the desk. “You shouldn’t have to be punished for another man’s sin.”

Ed and Al both nodded in agreement.

“I just hope I can make the Fuhrer see it that way,” Mustang muttered darkly. “In the meantime, I have a report to write. I’ll leave you to your rest.” He stood up and lifted a file from his desk, heading for the door.

“Goodnight, Colonel,” Al said as Mustang crossed the room.

“Goodnight, Alphonse,” Mustang replied with a small smile. “Sleep well, Fullmetal.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ed muttered, kicking off his boots. He shook out the blanket and laid down on his side, back to the rest of the room.

It was hard to find a comfortable way to rest his head with his new ears, but after shifting around for a few minutes, he managed to settle in. By that point, someone -- probably Mustang on his way out -- had shut off the lights, and Ed was left in the quiet, listening to his own breathing and Nina’s, softer and more even. He knew Al was there, too, but he was hard to track by sound when he was sitting completely still.

He thought about Nina, and again he felt compelled to go to her.

_Sad. Purring. Comfort._

Ed nuzzled his face deeper into the seam of the couch, trying to banish the thoughts. Try as he might, though, Alexander’s protective _carer-friend-loyal_ love for Nina wormed its way even into his dreams as he fell into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, here's the tea: if the transmutation on nina had proceeded as planned, the final product would have been a similar ratio of animal to human traits as what we see in canon, and the reason ed ended up mainly human-like is because the circle was calculated to nina’s body mass, so the percentages got a little fucky-wucky because ed is bigger than nina is. i thought hard about this stuff, ok?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't written this much in such a short amount of time in AGES. the power of catboys is infusing me with whatever the opposite of writer's block is, i guess.

_Happy, safe, petting, purring._

Light teased at the blurry edges of Ed’s vision as he surfaced into consciousness. He could feel a small hand on his head, lightly stroking his hair, and the _warm-soft-content_ part of him was very pleased about this. It took him a few seconds of blinking to realize Nina was petting him, and he was _purring._

“GYAH!” Ed yelped, scrambling into a sitting position. He heard giggling from Nina, who was kneeling beside his couch, and from Al -- that traitor -- from where he was peeking over the back of the couch.

“Good morning, Edward,” said Lieutenant Hawkeye from the other couch. Ed felt his cheeks flush red. Hawkeye didn’t exactly wear her emotions on her sleeve, but Ed would be damned if that wasn’t a twinkle of amusement in her eye.

“Buzz off, all of you,” Ed grumbled, his tail flicking in agitation. He pulled the blanket up and let it drape over his head so that Nina couldn't reach his ears anymore.

"Sorry, brother," Al said, and though his face was the same immobile steel it had been for four years, Ed could tell his brother was smiling. "It's just that it was so adorable."

"I'd hiss at you if I didn't think you'd find THAT adorable too," Ed snapped back, which pulled another laugh from Al.

“Big brother, you’re a kitty now!” Nina exclaimed. Ed winced slightly, and shifted his tail out of the way when the little girl reached for it. 

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “Where’s the Colonel?” he asked, directed at Hawkeye.

"Trying to get in touch with Mrs. Tucker's brother," she said. "It took some digging but as far as we can tell, he's her only living relative."

"Oh." Some part of Ed's gut twisted up at the idea of sending Nina away. He wasn't sure whether the distress was coming from his own attachment to her, or Alexander's. Whoever her uncle was, Ed hoped he would let them visit.

Hawkeye offered Ed some of the breakfast she'd brought, and based on the two already-empty containers, he guessed Nina and Mustang had already eaten. As he was finishing up his meal, Mustang returned from whatever calls he'd been making. Ed paused with the fork halfway to his mouth when he saw the tired look on the Colonel's face.

"Any luck?" Al asked hopefully.

Mustang shook his head as he went to sit at his desk. "He's in hospital out west. Two months ago he was in a car crash that left him…" He glanced at Nina before delicately saying, "In not great shape. There's no way he could take on a young child."

"That's too bad," Al said, looking down at Nina, who was climbing up his lap.

Secretly, Ed was sort of glad. 'Out west' was across the country from where Ed and Al usually operated; maybe now he could suggest that they send her to Resembool or something. Before he could finish his mouthful to do just that, the office door slammed open, startling everyone inside.

"Yo, Roy!" called a very chipper Lt. Colonel Hughes.

"Lt. Colonel Hughes!" Al exclaimed in reply. Ed choked on his eggs in an attempt to do the same.

"Oh hey, it's the Elric brothers!" Hughes put his hands on his hips and smiled. He nodded to Hawkeye, who nodded back, and it was only after that did Hughes finally stride up to Mustang's desk.

"Hughes, what are you doing here in East City?" Mustang asked, clearly caught off-guard.

"Chasing a serial killer. I just got in, and I thought -- what?" Hughes interrupted himself to question why Mustang had started shaking his head.

"Young ears," Mustang said simply.

Hughes promptly turned, and as Al stood up from behind the couch, finally saw Nina. "Oh! My bad, I didn't realize. Whose kid is she?"

"Shou Tucker, a state alchemist," Mustang replied.

"Babysitting for a friend?" Hughes shot Mustang a quizzical look.

"Hardly," Ed spat, feeling his hackles rise. His tail lashed underneath the blanket, and he saw Hughes' eyes narrow somewhat.

"Well, spare me the details," Hughes said breezily, waving his hand. He wandered over to Al, and Nina hid herself behind Al's legs as he approached, peeking out with shy curiosity. Hughes crouched down and smiled, holding out his hand. "Hi there! You can call me Mr. Hughes. I have a daughter about your age at home, you know. Her name's Elicia. What's yours?"

Nina hesitated, then stepped out from behind Al's legs and put her hand in Hughes'. "Nina," she told him. "Are you friends with big brothers?"

Hughes shook her hand and let go, still smiling. "Yes I am! I hope we can be friends too, Nina."

Nina finally smiled back, nodding excitedly. "Okay! We can be friends too!"

"Wonderful!" Hughes patted her on the head and stood up, glancing back at Mustang, who had a mysterious little smile on his lips.

Ed realized what Mustang must have been thinking and hope soared in his chest. "You know, Lt. Colonel Hughes," Ed began, offhand. "We're actually having a little trouble finding a place for Nina to stay for the next little while."

"Well that's no trouble at all. She can come back to Central with me," Hughes replied easily. It was like he didn't even have to think about it. "How long does she need a place?"

Ed and Al glanced at each other. They had avoided talking about Tucker while Nina was awake and listening.

"Her sole guardian is currently looking at quite a lot of jail time," Mustang said, more tactful than Ed probably would have managed. "So… indefinitely?"

"Daddy did something bad," Nina said quietly, drawing everyone's attention. She was clinging to Al's side again, and Al put his hand on top of her head. "He put Alexander into big brother Ed."

The tension in the room suddenly amped up to an eleven, as Hughes looked at Ed and everyone else pointedly did not.

Hughes didn't ask, but Ed could see questions and gears turning behind his eyes, so he let the blanket fall away from his head to reveal his ears and his messy, slept-in braid.

To Hughes' credit, his only reaction was a sharp intake of breath. He blinked, and then slowly turned his gaze onto each person in the room. "I see," he said, finally. "You've got a rather interesting case on your hands, eh Roy?"

Mustang folded his hands in front of his chin but offered no response other than, "Do you have any business to conduct here or is this a purely social visit?"

Hughes' eyes flickered again to Nina, then back to Mustang. "Can I just borrow you for a word?"

Mustang stood and followed Hughes out of the office.

Ed sighed heavily as Al brought Nina around to the other side of the couch in order to sit. 

"What do you think of Mr. Hughes, Nina?" Al asked, watching her climb up beside Ed.

"He's nice!" Nina said simply. "He has a hairy face."

Ed chuckled at that. "Will you be okay if you go live with Mr. Hughes?"

Nina was quiet for a moment as she rubbed the fabric of the couch and her face grew a little sad. "I can't live with daddy again?"

"No," Ed said firmly. "It's not safe. Your dad tried to hurt you, Nina."

"Brother," Al admonished.

Ed shrugged. It was the truth. "But Mr. Hughes would never do that. He has a wife, too. Mrs. Gracia. She makes delicious food."

"And a daughter?" Nina asked.

"Yes! Elicia will happily play with you, all the time I bet," Al said.

Nina smiled happily. "Really? I want to meet her. I want to go with Mr. Hughes."

Ed smiled. Assuming Mrs. Gracia would be on board, he could easily see Nina becoming part of the Hughes family. They had welcomed the brothers so warmly when they were in Central just recently. It was a home full of love, to be sure. Something a bright and cheerful girl like Nina would fit in with right away. She’d be a great older sister to Elicia.

That train of thought came screeching to a halt when Mustang's office door slammed again for the second time in the hour. Mustang stood there, looking tense, the sleepless bags under his eyes emphasized by the pinched lines between his eyebrows. Hughes stood behind him, looking similarly somber.

"Lieutenant," Mustang snapped. Hawkeye immediately stood and made her way to him without question.

"What's going on, Colonel?" Ed demanded, rising to his feet.

"I'll tell you later. Stay here," Mustang commanded. When Ed opened his mouth to argue, Mustang cut him off. "That's an _order,_ Fullmetal. I mean it."

With that, the three grim-looking adults left the room, closing the door behind them.

"Brothers? What's happening? Where are they going?" Nina asked, tugging on the back of Ed's shirt.

With a frustrated grunt, Ed turned to face her, offering his arms, which she eagerly climbed into. "Wish I knew," he muttered angrily. He put his nose to the top of her hair and the familiar scent calmed him enough to sit down without fuss. In any other situation he would be following them, orders be damned, but he couldn't leave Nina on her own.

Alexander wouldn't let him.

After an hour of playing with Nina with absolutely nothing left to do, Ed's thoughts could be summed up with, _screw Alexander, and screw the damn Colonel while we're at it._

"I hate just waiting around," Ed complained from his spot on the floor, stomach-down with his head resting on his folded arms. Nina knelt beside him, combing out his braid-wavy hair with a wooden comb Ed had transmuted out of a pencil holder he was sure Officer Falman wouldn't miss. 

"I know. Me too," Al commiserated.

"Who knows when they'll be back," Ed sighed. 

"We don't even know what happened; maybe they're in trouble!" said Al.

"Brothers' friends are in trouble?" Nina echoed, pausing her combing. "We should help! I can help Mr. Hughes, and brothers can help Colonel!"

Ed snorted to hide his laughter. Nina had taken to referring to Mustang as just 'Colonel', which led Ed to believe she thought it was his name and not a rank. 

"That's a very nice idea, Nina," Al said, also laughing. "But the Colonel told us to wait here. It's probably dangerous, whatever it is."

Ed's ear swiveled towards the office door; he could hear footsteps. He sat up and turned to face the direction of the faint sound, anticipatory. The footsteps drew closer and closer, until the door opened to reveal Lieutenant Hawkeye. 

"Edward, Alphonse," she said curtly, by way of greeting. Her face was set just as grimly as when she'd left. "The Colonel's waiting. I'll watch Nina."

After exchanging a look with his brother, Ed gathered his hair back up into a perfunctory ponytail and stood up, joining Al outside the office. In the hallway waited Mustang, looking even more exhausted than before. Not for the first time, Ed wondered if the man had even slept since Al had called him last night. It was almost enough to make Ed feel bad for him.

"I'll cut right to it," Mustang said. "Shou Tucker is dead."

Ed tensed, his ears flicking back instinctively and his hands balling into fists.

"Dead?!" Al repeated, shocked.

"Someone broke into lock-up and killed him in his cell. Several military police are dead as well."

"Who?" Ed demanded. "How? _Why?_ Dammit Colonel!" A frustrated hiss broke free of Ed's throat.

"Don't hiss at _me,_ Fullmetal," Mustang snapped. It was clear he was running out of patience, not just with Ed but with the whole situation. "We think we know who the culprit is. The way he died matches a string of murders in Central, all of which were state alchemists and their entourages. It's who Lt. Colonel Hughes came here to find."

Ed clenched and relaxed his fists a few times in succession, kneading the meat of his left palm. "Well, you can't say the bastard didn't have it coming," he muttered.

Al punched him in the shoulder, sending him stumbling a step until his tail flicked out to help him rebalance. Huh, nifty.

"Those military guards didn't have it coming!" Al said angrily. "They were just doing their jobs. Don't be insensitive."

Chastised, Ed rubbed his shoulder. "You're right. Sorry."

Mustang cleared his throat. "The good news is that this means you don’t have to go public about your new body for the sake of the case. The bad news is we've lost a really good potential resource in helping you get back to normal."

Ed's tail swished back and forth, his mouth bitter with resentment. "As if I'd want his help anyway."

"So what now?" Al asked.

Mustang pushed his own bangs back into his hair and let out a heavy sigh. "Now, you lay low for a while, until we catch this guy. Fullmetal and I are the only other state alchemists of note who are local to the area, so we're the biggest targets. I'm assigning you a guard detail until further notice."

“But --” Ed started to argue, wanting to offer to help in the case somehow, but Mustang held up a hand.

“No. This is for your own good, Fullmetal. This guy isn’t like the other criminals you’ve gone up against so far. By Hughes’ estimates, he’s got a body count of about a dozen, including Tucker. He’s a serious threat, even to me. So, no, whatever you were about to say, I don’t want to hear it. You’re not ready.”

A heavy silence settled upon the three of them as the gravity of the situation sunk in. Ed continued to knead at his palm.

“Do you have a direction you want to go in from here?” Mustang prompted.

Ed shook his head as Al replied, “Not yet.”

“Great. Then you can take the girl back to your hotel and look after her there until Hughes is ready to go back to Central.”

“You can’t seriously expect us to sit around on our asses playing _nanny_ while you try to catch this guy!” Ed retorted, taking a step towards the Colonel. “That could take days! Weeks, even! If you’re going to be out there risking your stupid neck then why can’t I?!”

“I just told you.”

“Fuck that!” Ed hissed.

Mustang’s eyes blazed suddenly. “Remember your place!” he yelled.

The sudden increase in volume made Ed's catbrain go haywire. He felt his heart rate spike, and he bared his teeth instinctively before forcing himself to release the tension in his muscles. His ears were pinned back, and his tail flicked slowly from side to side as he stared Mustang down. "Respectfully,” he ground out in a low voice. “Fuck that, _sir._ ”

There was a moment where nothing happened. Then Mustang’s hand came up to rub the bridge of his nose before falling limply back to his side. “One day, I will do something about your insubordination,” Mustang promised tiredly. “Your escorts are waiting for you downstairs. Dismissed.”

Ed gave the most contemptuous salute he could muster. He could feel a growl bubbling in his chest, but he didn’t know if Mustang could hear it. 

_Angry, fighting, challenger._

“Come on, Al; let’s get Nina and go,” Ed muttered, pushing away the instincts urging him to take a swipe at Mustang’s stupid face. 

Before heading downstairs, Ed made sure to tuck his ears under his hood and his tail into the leg of one of his pants -- it wasn’t comfortable, but it was bearable. Or it would have been, if Ed didn’t also have to contend with the throb in his ports from the storm outside. He was all around pretty irritated, and didn’t bother with formalities when being introduced to his escorts. One was a young man with chin-length dusty blond hair, and the other was a woman with short black hair and a mole under one eye. Ed didn’t bother listening when they introduced themselves; he was too busy moodily staring outside at the rainy street, thinking about how he was determined to not let this cat business get in the way of his work. 

He _would_ get his body back to normal, without help from the Colonel or from Shou Tucker’s notes. He _would_ get Al’s body back, no matter what. He would prove Colonel Mustang wrong, along with anyone else who ever doubted his resolve.

Ed’s steely demeanor only softened when Nina took his hand as they started walking from Eastern Command to the hotel they’d been staying at. He looked down at her, and she smiled at him. He couldn’t help smirking back.

  
There were things worth fighting for, and _that_ was Ed’s resolve.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter was pretty light-hearted compared to the first few - i hope you're ready to get slam-dunked back into the angst!!! cuz though this fic is tagged "Angst and Humor" it's really more like "ANGST............. and Humor"

It was up to Ed and Al to break the news of Tucker’s death to Nina. Al wished that Lieutenant Hawkeye or Lt. Colonel Hughes had done it instead -- mostly for selfish reasons.

Al could tell Ed didn’t want to tell her either. Which meant that he made Al do it, because some things never change.

Nina had wailed and cried, when Al explained that her father was gone and never coming back. Ed had sunk to the floor with her, pressing her close to his chest and curling around her protectively. Al ached with the desire to join them, to help mourn the loss of a parent, no matter how awful he'd been, but his body was not soft, not warm; he could not offer any comfort. Nina was an orphan now, and even though she didn't fully understand what that meant exactly, once they had confirmed "never coming back means _never ever_ coming back," she had broken down in tears. Al understood. He had been exactly Nina’s age when his Mom had died. He wanted to help, but all he could do was stand there quietly, metal body trembling with the force of his sadness, but unable to shed even a single tear.

There was a knock on the door. “Everything okay?” called the voice of Sergeant Brosh. Al tried to find his voice to respond, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Yes? No? He had to be okay, because what other option was there? He was never okay, and hadn’t been since he was ten years old? It was too much to ask, too much to answer.

“Daddy,” sobbed Nina.

The door creaked open an inch, and Al turned to see the concerned face of the Sergeant, with Lieutenant Ross at his side, her mouth twisted in sympathy. Al shifted to the side, just enough to block Ed and Nina from their view -- Ed didn’t have his hood on anymore, after all, and they hadn’t seen his ears yet.

“Anything we can do?” Ross asked softly.

Al shook his head. “Thank you, but there’s not really anything any of us can do,” he replied somberly. “Oh, maybe you could bring some food up? She probably won’t want to eat right away but…”

Both soldiers nodded, and then Brosh gently shut the door again with a soft _click._

When Al glanced back, he could see Ed rubbing Nina’s back the way Granny had done anytime he or Al or Winry had gotten upset as young children. Al walked closer, trying to make his footsteps light so as not to startle either of them, but the hollow clank was hard to disguise. He reached down and put his hand on his brother’s head, right between his ears. Ed looked up at him, and he looked more tired than sad. Nina heaved a few more quiet sobs against Ed’s shirt, but her crying fit seemed to be dying down, finally.

“Are you okay, brother?” Al asked, and he hoped Ed would understand what he was really asking. _Is THIS okay, brother? Are we okay? Can we still move forward?_

Ed paused in his back-rubbing as he met Al’s gaze. “Yeah,” he said, with the full weight of his breath. “Yeah. It’ll all be okay.”

Al left his hand resting on Ed’s head for a moment, since Ed was allowing it, and the two of them listened to Nina’s sniffles in the otherwise quiet room.

Not long after, as Ed was undoing Nina’s braids and using the comb he transmuted earlier to brush out her hair, there was a knock on the door again.

“Major elric, sir?” called Brosh’s hesitant voice. “I brought some food from the restaurant downstairs.”

Nina didn’t eat much, and went to sleep soon after, despite it only being late afternoon. The rain let up soon after she had fallen asleep. Ed took to his notebook, writing and erasing and flipping back and forth between pages. Al wondered what he was working on, but Ed hadn’t invited him over to share yet, so he would wait before he asked.

The rest of the day passed quietly into night without much fuss.

“What should we do tomorrow, brother?” Al asked quietly as Ed got ready for bed.

“I dunno. Maybe we could take Nina to the library? I really don’t want to be cooped up in this damn room for a week.”

“Me neither,” Al agreed. “And maybe while one of us reads with Nina, the other can do some more research about the philosopher’s stone?”

Ed smiled at his brother and tapped the side of his head. “Great minds think alike.”

“And fools seldom differ,” Al finished with a light sigh. The vocalization of a sigh, anyway. It wasn’t like he had lungs.

Ed crawled onto the bed beside Nina, careful not to touch or disturb her. He curled up on his side, and Al couldn’t help but see the feline curve to his spine, a position only a cat could truly achieve. Did Ed even realize he was doing it? Al wondered how far the changes went, how much the person Ed was now was the same as he was before, and how much of it was Alexander’s cat instincts. Did he have Alexander’s memories? Al had so many questions that he didn’t feel comfortable asking. Not just yet. It was too fresh for that.

As Ed’s breathing evened out, Al settled into a spot on the floor where he could easily see both the door and the window. It was time for him to sit his nightly vigil, alone with his thoughts. At least tonight, he had a lot of new events to process; he didn’t have to go back to thinking about how much he hated this body, or how badly they had failed four years ago, or how much he wished he could go back to those carefree days in Resembool where he took for granted the wind in his hair and the grass on his skin. Instead he thought about Nina, and the Colonel, and Lt. Colonel Hughes, and Brosh and Ross standing guard outside their door, people ready and willing to help. He thought about Tucker, and his own father he could barely remember, and the way Hughes had immediately accepted care of Nina without question. He thought about Ed, and Alexander, and put together in his mind theoretical arrays that would never really work to separate them again.

His thoughts would keep him occupied until the sun rose again. He had no other choice.

~~~

Getting ready to leave for the library took longer than Ed expected. He hadn't had to help a four-year-old get ready in the morning since Al was that little, and Ed hadn't been that much older at the time.

"I want my hair like yours, big brother!" Nina said when Ed was combing out her bedhead.

"Oh yeah? I can do that," Ed replied with a smile.

"So cute," Al fake-whispered from across the room. Ed stuck his tongue out at him.

Once Nina's hair was done up in a single long braid and her clothes changed and Ed had done the same for himself, they were finally ready. Ed tucked his tail away and flipped the hood of his coat up to obscure his ears before opening the door. There were two new guards waiting outside; they must have relieved the other two during the night. They both saluted when Ed stepped out.

He didn't like having an escort; it felt demeaning, like the Colonel didn't think he could defend himself. Though in this case, the Colonel had pretty much explicitly said as much. "We're going to the library," he told the soldiers as he passed them, tugging his glove snug against his metal hand.

"I thought your orders were to stay indoors, Major Elric, sir?"

Ed rolled his eyes. "My 'orders' were to lay low. There's nothing conspicuous about visiting a library that's open to the public. Come on, slowpokes," he called over his shoulder to Al and Nina.

By all accounts, their library excursion was pretty uneventful. Ed and Al took turns reading with Nina, helping her sound out words in colourful picture books, while the other compiled whatever materials they could find about alchemy and the philosopher's stone. Nothing they found in East City's paltry alchemy section seemed to contain any information they didn't already know -- it made Ed realize the sheer specificity and rarity of the books in Hohenheim's collection that they had read growing up

When they left the library, it was well past noon, and Nina was complaining of an empty belly. Ed was in complete agreement. They easily found a little open-air café not too far away. Al invited their escorts to sit and eat with them, but they politely declined, instead taking up positions on either side of the table the three of them were sitting at.

Just as Ed was picking up his deli meat sandwich, mouth watering at the smell, he heard a voice from behind him say, "Are you Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

Ed tensed as he looked over at the sound.

His guards both had their hands on their guns. One of them asked Ed, "Do you know this man, sir?"

Ed put down his sandwich as he surveyed the man in question. He was tall and stocky, with brown skin and white hair, though he couldn't have been older than 30. He was wearing a yellow jacket and tinted glasses that obscured his eyes. A large scar marked his forehead, travelling even under the sunglasses. "No," Ed replied, slowly standing up. "I don't. Who are you?"

The stranger flexed his right hand, and Ed could hear joints crack. "I am the hand of God, here to deliver justice to sinner alchemists."

The hair all along Ed's spine immediately prickled up, and then several things happened at once. The stranger rushed forward, hand out towards Ed. One of the soldiers unholstered her gun and aimed it at the man, while the other jumped in the way and tried to grapple him. The stranger grabbed the soldier's face, and there was a crackle of blue energy before the soldier choked, and there was a burst of blood out of every one of his orifices. At this point the other customers in the café began screaming and trying to flee.

Ed knocked his chair back and shouted, "Al, get Nina out of here!"

"What about you?!" Al cried in response as he scooped a frightened Nina into his arms.

_**BANG! BANG!** _

Two shots rang out, but the white-haired man had somehow dodged the bullets. Dread clung to the inside of Ed's still-empty stomach, weighing it down.

"I'll meet you back at the hotel. No time to argue, just run!"

There was another spurt of blood, and this time some of it landed on Ed, warm and thick on his cheek. Ed stared, wide-eyed, as the woman soldier fell, and the attacker lunged, stone-faced, towards him.

"BROTHER!" Al shrieked, snapping Ed out of it.

Ed ducked, the man's hand missing him by less than an inch. There was no time to waste -- this guy was _fast,_ and Ed had to lead him away from the civilians, from his brother and Nina. He bolted away from the café, out into the street, and when he whirled around, the guy was right on his heels again. Ed jumped to the side, avoiding another swipe, but when he landed he stumbled. His tail wanted to flick out to correct his balance, but it was trapped in his trousers.

 _Damn it,_ Ed thought, catching himself on his hand to avoid eating shit and turning it into a very sloppy handspring that still managed to get him upright. Teacher would have berated him for his form, but he had other things to worry about. His attacker was still coming, relentless. Ed was too focused on evading the guy's deadly grip to make a weapon for himself -- how had he killed those soldiers just like that?

Ed's foot caught on a stone and he yelped as he fell. Without his tail to counterbalance, his back hit pavement, and fear shot up his spine as the broad hand came straight down towards his face. He managed to fling up his right arm to protect his head, and he felt the hand close tightly around it. There was that same blue spark, reminiscent of an alchemic reaction, but instead of pain, Ed felt a strange sort of _repulsion,_ and the force of it pushed the air out of his lungs, while his attacker was forced to let go and stagger back a step.

"What?" said the man, astonished.

Ed looked at his arm, and though the automail was fine, the sleeve of his coat was torn to shreds. "I'm sick of people ripping up my favourite coat," Ed gasped, exasperated. He took his opponent's momentary distraction as an opportunity to stand up and free his tail.

"I see, your right arm is metal," the stranger mused, likely to himself. "That's why the bodily destruction didn't work. But if I adjust for the composition of the metal…" He flexed his hand again, and lunged suddenly at Ed.

This time, Ed had enough time to clap his hands together and transmute the stone beneath his feet, raising a column up under the man to throw him off balance. It bought him enough time to start running in the opposite direction. He needed to come up with a plan, _fast_.

The air rushing past him caught Ed’s hood as he ran, blowing it off of his head, but he didn’t have time to care. He made a sharp turn down an alley, and saw a drainpipe that went up and over the wall that would otherwise be a dead end. Without having to even think about it, Ed threw himself at the pipe and began shimmying up out of reach. Just as he neared the top, he heard a crackle and suddenly the pipe jerked, and began to fall backwards.

“Nononono -- AUGH!” Ed yelped as he plummeted towards the ground. He managed to twist his body around the pipe and fall away from it, landing in a roll to try and soften the impact. As he caught his breath, he could hear footsteps behind him. _Gotta move, NOW,_ his instincts screamed.

“Your body is very unusual, alchemist,” said the stranger, as Ed lurched forward to try and get away on adrenaline-wobbly legs. “Did you do this to yourself? How could you profane the vessel God has given you with such vile alchemy?” he asked, disgust curling in his voice.

“I didn’t ask for this body, okay?” Ed shot back, turning to face his assailant while continuing to back out of the alley the way he’d originally come. Maybe if he could keep the guy talking, it could give him a chance to come up with a plan. “Who did you say you were again? A punisher of alchemists?”

“Where there are creators like you, there must also be destroyers,” said the man. “Alchemy is a perversion of God’s will, and State Alchemists like you are the worst of your kind. Today I will send you to God to suffer His judgement.”

Ed couldn’t help but smirk. “I’m pretty sure God’s been judging me for a while now.”

“Brother!”

Ed turned in surprise and saw Al running towards the alley. Later, he would curse himself for getting distracted, because in that split second of taking his eyes off the attacker, the man had run up to Ed and grabbed his automail. There was a flash of blue, and Ed’s arm exploded.

The force of the impact sent Ed crashing to the ground again, and he stared in horror at the scattered remains of his automail before him. The structural core was in two pieces, the hand mostly intact but the outer casing completely destroyed and every connector wire severed. Phantom pain from the loss of sensation immediately shot through Ed, but there was nothing he could do except stare, wide-eyed and ears back at the man standing above him.

“You perform alchemy by bringing your palms together to form a circle, so I’ve rid you of your metal arm to prevent you from transmuting,” said the stranger, and even through the panic, Ed wondered why he was bothering to explain himself. “I will give you a moment to pray to God.”

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!” screamed Al, and the heavy clanking of metal preceded Al’s swing, which the stranger jumped away from easily.

Ed watched from the ground as Al began making a series of attacks, powerful and perfectly controlled, as always. The man was fast, though, _faster than Al,_ Ed realized in horror, as the man dipped and dodged, evading every hit that would have knocked any other person flying.

Ed wanted to cry out in warning as he saw the man’s right hand come up from underneath to strike the side of Al’s body, but it was too late. With a flash of alchemic light -- and it _was_ alchemy, Ed finally realized; alchemy without the reconstruction, stopping at deconstruction -- Al’s metal body exploded outwards, shards going everywhere as he cried out in surprise. Al tumbled to the ground, his one leg gone and the hollow of his body open and exposed.

“Alphonse!” Ed cried, worried for his brother. He tried to scramble forwards but the phantom pain surged through him again and he collapsed on his right side, the edge of his empty automail port scraping against stone. His blood ran cold as he saw the attacker turn to him once again.

“I shall abide no more distractions,” the man said solemnly. “It is time for you to return to God, Edward Elric.”

“My brother,” Ed said, heart pounding in his chest. “Do you plan to kill him too, or is it just me?”

“If he interferes, I will kill him,” the man answered without hesitation. “But you are the only one meant to receive judgement today.”

Ed’s remaining fist curled up against the stone of the road and he let his head hang, his forehead nearly touching the ground. He could see no way out of this. He couldn’t use alchemy, there was no way to outrun this guy, and Al couldn’t fight anymore. Ed couldn’t beat him in a fight one-handed, and nobody was coming to save him. That realization made a strange, cold calm flow through Ed. Nobody was coming to save him. He was going to die.

“Promise me you won’t hurt my brother,” he forced himself to say, as the slow footfalls drew closer. “Please, promise me.”

“Brother, what are you saying?” Al called, his voice pleading. “Get up and run! Please, brother!”

“I promise,” the man said, very seriously.

Ed found that he believed it, and a ghost of a smile came over his face. The man was standing over him now, hand outstretched. “Good,” he exhaled, closing his eyes.

“No! Don’t you dare! Leave him alone! EDWARD!” Al screamed in anguish.

 _I’m sorry, Al,_ Ed thought, as he felt the tips of the man’s fingers brush the sensitive fur on his ears. _I’m sorry, Nina._


	6. Chapter 6

_**BANG!** _

A shot rang out through the air, and Ed’s heart leapt, though he stayed stock-still, knowing the destructive alchemy of the scarred stranger was a mere hair’s breadth from his skull.

“Stop right there, Scar!” shouted a voice Ed was pretty sure belonged to Colonel Mustang. A nauseous sort of hope swelled in his chest; he was still very much in danger, but somebody had actually come.

Whatever exchange Mustang was having with the man he’d called Scar, Ed couldn’t follow it. The words were faint and meaningless, drowned out by the pulse of his own blood in his ears and the effort of trying to keep his breathing quiet and even. He needed to not move an inch until Scar was a safe distance away, or he would risk drawing the killer’s attention again.

Despite himself, his ears did swivel to follow the sound of Scar stepping away. Ed remained perfectly still as he heard a crisp _snap,_ followed by the roar of flames. He felt the heat blast go over his head -- it was a good thing it wasn’t raining like the day before, or Mustang would have been helpless against Scar.

Two sets of footsteps quickly approached Ed once the heat had passed, and he could hear sounds of fighting moving farther away -- shots popping off and one more burst of the Colonel’s flames. Ed dared to glance up, and he saw Lieutenant Havoc crouching down to offer his hand to Ed with a grim smile, while a few military police surrounded them for protection.

Ed allowed Havoc to help him sit up, and they both turned to watch Mustang advance on Scar. Anytime Scar tried to get in close to land a hit, Mustang would repel him with a blast of flames. Even from a distance, Ed could see the anger in the lines of Scar’s body, which was strange, because he had pursued Ed with a sort of cold determination, rather than a raging passion.

“That’s the guy, right?” Ed asked Havoc. “The one who’s been targeting state alchemists? The one who killed Tucker?”

“Yup,” Havoc confirmed.

Then from around the corner appeared _Major Armstrong,_ who Ed wasn’t even aware was in East City. Armstrong’s alchemy tore through the stone of the street, erupting in spikes that Scar just barely managed to dodge. A well-timed snap from Mustang set the man’s shoulder on fire, and he had to roll out of the way of Armstrong’s next attack while trying to put it out.

Ed was too far away to make out the words being exchanged between the two alchemists and the wanted criminal, but it seemed clear that Scar was rethinking his strategy. He dodged a few blows from Armstrong, and Amstrong backed away from one of his, but the fighting only came to a standstill when another two shots were fired, one after the other, and one of them even seemed to graze Scar, his sunglasses going flying. Ed looked over to see Hawkeye on one knee, a smoking rifle in her hands.

“Oh shit,” Havoc breathed. “He’s Ishvalan.”

“Really? But what’s that got to do with anything?” Ed tried to peer at the man’s eyes, and sure enough they reflected red in the afternoon sun.

“We have you surrounded, and there’s no getting away.” Colonel Mustang’s voice rang out.

In response, Scar slammed his hand to the ground, and there was a glow of blue alchemic light, followed by the sound of crumbling rock and a massive dust cloud. When the cloud dissipated enough to see, the Ishvalan man was gone, leaving a collapsed portion of the sewer in his place.

“Damn, he got away,” Havoc muttered, as the MPs edged closer to the hole with their rifles gripped tight.

Ed’s spine went stiff as he suddenly remembered his brother. “Alphonse,” he said numbly, getting up and tripping over himself to run over to where Al was slumped against the alley wall. Ed grabbed the ragged edge of the hole that had been torn through his brother’s body. “Alphonse, are you okay? Talk to me!”

Al’s fist connected with Ed’s jaw in a righteous uppercut, which sent Ed sprawling on his ass for like the fifth time in the past hour. “OW! What the hell was that for?!” Ed demanded. The fur along his spine and all down his tail fluffed up in indignation.

“How could you be so _stupid?!”_ Al yelled. “Why didn’t you run when I told you to, you idiot?!”

“I wasn’t just going to leave you behind!” Ed shouted back.

“Which is why you’re stupid!”

“Hey, easy on the insults! I’m still your older brother!”

Al reached forward and grabbed the front of Ed’s shirt, tugging him closer. “Yeah, my _stupid idiot_ older brother! Why would you do something like that?! Why would you give up and choose death when Nina and Winry and Granny and everyone else is counting on you to keep living?!”

Ed’s ears flicked back. He felt guilt and dismay bubble in his chest as the soul of his brother stared him down. “But if I ran you would’ve been killed,” he defended weakly.

“You don’t know that! You have to _live,_ Ed. You have to choose to keep living; it’s the only choice we have!”

There was a crack of splintering metal as the thin section keeping Al’s arm attached gave in, and Al’s arm crashed to the ground.

“Oh and isn’t that just great! Now my arm’s come off because my brother’s a dumb idiot with no sense of self-preservation!” Al continued to yell, waving his remaining fist around in frustration.

Ed couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, feeling light-headed as the adrenaline left his system now that the danger had passed.

“What’s so funny, huh?!” Al demanded, still incensed.

“Just look at us, Al,” Ed replied, letting his head hang. “We’re falling to pieces.”

Al harrumphed, and then seemed to finally settle down. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But we’re still alive.”

Ed wanted to apologize to Al, to say _you’re right, I’m sorry, how could I even think of leaving you behind,_ but he didn’t know how to. How do you apologize to someone you love for almost causing them to lose you? How do you make that up to them? He wanted to explain that he wasn’t thinking about himself, he was too worried about Al’s safety, but that was selfish of him, because if Ed had died than Al would have been alone, and so would Nina, after having just lost her only family -- Ed had to live for them. He had to live to see Al get his body back, to see Nina grow up into a strong young woman, to see Winry’s smiling face again.

“We’re still alive,” Ed echoed. It was the only thing he could say.

~~~

Back at Mustang’s office, Ed and Al listened to the Colonel explain about the Ishvalan War of extermination, how state alchemists were brought in as human weapons, how the man they were calling Scar had plenty of justified motive for wanting to punish state alchemists.

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with me,” Ed protested. “I was just a kid when that all happened; I never fought in the war. He says he’s on a mission from God, which is first of all, arrogant, and second of all, an obfuscation of his real motive, which is straight up-and-down vengeance.”

“Regardless of why he’s doing it,” Mustang said from his desk chair, elbows propped and one hand over the other in front of his chin. “He’s coming at us with everything he’s got, and he's not someone to be taken lightly, as we’ve seen. We can’t let our guard down. The next time we meet, I won’t be holding back; I expect the same for all of you.” He looked around his office at all the people gathered there: his own team, the Elric brothers and Nina, and Lt. Colonel Hughes’ men, including Major Armstrong.

“Yes sir,” chorused most of the room.

Hughes looked over at the brothers and asked, “Ed, Al. What’s your next move?”

“Well, In order to get Al fixed up, I have to get my arm back to normal,” Ed replied, putting his hand on Al’s shoulder. “So I guess we’ve got no choice but to pay a visit to our mechanic.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve been home,” Al said fondly.

Ed reached up and self-consciously touched one of his ears. “I wonder what Winry will make of all this,” he said weakly.

“Yeah, as if showing up with busted automail wasn’t bad enough,” Al said sympathetically. “What about you, Lt. Colonel? Are you returning to Central soon?”

Hughes smirked and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I have to, huh? Somebody’s gotta take Nina off your hands so you can put yourselves back together as soon as possible.”

“Thank you again for agreeing to take her in, Lt. Colonel,” Al said, dipping his head slightly.

“No need to thank me, boys, I’m just glad to have an excuse to go home and see my beautiful girls!” Hughes chuckled, and Ed couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

~~~

There were no trains to Resembool until the next day, and even though Hughes could have taken Nina on the last train to Central that evening, he said something about having some last bit of in-person business he needed to see to with Colonel Mustang and that they should all depart in the morning. Ed was kind of glad -- he wasn’t sure he was ready to say goodbye to Nina just yet. It _did,_ however, mean that she would have to see them in their banged-up state, which Ed wasn’t super comfortable with, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“Where’s brother’s arm?” Nina exclaimed when she saw Ed again for the first time since the cafe. She ran up to him, reaching for his shoulder as if to make sure it was really gone. “Did that bad man take it? We have to get it back!”

Ed explained that he wasn’t really hurt, that his arm was metal so he didn’t feel it when it broke. It was a lie, he _did_ feel it break, and every now and then phantom pain would flare up when he reflexively tried to use his right arm but there was nowhere for the nerve impulses to go, or when something passed through the space his brain thought his arm _should_ be, but there was no harm in not telling Nina about all that. She seemed comforted by the fact that he would be able to get a brand new arm, and that Al would also be just fine in a little while.

In the morning they got packed up and ready for the train station, and Ed was begrudgingly grateful for Major Armstrong, because he was able to carry with relative ease not just Al, but both Ed and Nina’s suitcases as well. It left Ed’s hand free to hold Nina’s as they met up with Lt. Colonel Hughes at the platform, where Armstrong set Al down so he could say his goodbyes.

“Okay, ready to go with Mr. Hughes?” Ed asked, squeezing her hand gently.

Nina looked up at Ed in alarm. “Brothers aren’t coming with us?”

He shook his head. “Not this time. We have to go get all fixed up, first. _Then_ we’ll come visit.”

Nina gripped Ed’s hand tightly, and reached out with the other to hold the edge of Al’s carrying container. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, distressed.

Ed looked at Al for help, But Al didn’t seem to know what to do either. Seeing Nina get upset again was prickling at Ed in a way that felt familiar now, the urge to _soothe, comfort, protect_ his… whatever she was to him. Little sister? His feelings were strange, complicated by the adoring, almost guardian-like relationship Alexander had had with her.

“Hey, Nina, don’t worry,” said Hughes, stepping forward and leaning down with his hands on his knees to get a little closer to her eye-level. “You’ll see them before too long. They’ll be with us in Central before you know it! Isn’t that right, boys?” The very stern glare he sent the brothers’ way brooked no arguments.

“Yeah, of course,” Ed replied.

“Yes, sir!” Al chirped simultaneously.

“Well then, there you have it,” Hughes said to Nina, his voice and eyes softening again. He straightened up and held his hand out to her. “I told Elicia you were coming over the phone. She’s _very_ excited to meet you.”

Nina hesitated for a second, clearly conflicted. “Hugs goodbye, first,” she said eventually, with authority.

Ed cracked a smile. He had to help lift her a bit (awkward one-handed, but doable) so that she could wrap her arms around Al’s helmet, and Ed could only guess how much Al regretted being unable to really hug her back in his current situation. When Ed set her down again, she turned around and hugged him tightly. He smiled, a bit sadly, and rubbed her back until she let go.

Nina took Hughes’ hand, and Hughes picked up her suitcase, and together the two of them took a step back.

Behind them, the train’s whistle blew, and the conductor began walking up and down the platform, calling out that there was seven minutes until departure.

Ed patted Al on the shoulder and said, “Sorry about you having to be cargo, Al. We’ll see you when we get to Resembool.”

Al nodded, and Major Armstrong picked him up again to load him into the freight car. Ed boarded the train, and Armstrong met him at his seat. When he looked out the window, he saw Hughes and Nina, hand-in-hand, standing there, waiting.

“Don’t you have your own train to catch?” Ed called out to them.

“We have another ten minutes,” Hughes replied. “I figured we could see you off properly, since the folks from Eastern Command are too busy to come by.”

The whistle on Ed’s train blew again, two long blasts to indicate they were pulling away momentarily.

“See you in Central, Edward,” Hughes called once the whistle had faded.

“Sure thing, Lt. Colonel. Tell Elicia and Mrs. Gracia I said hi!” As Ed spoke, the train jerked slightly, and the wheels began to turn.

Hughes’ grin widened, but he made no response other than a salute, which Ed and Armstrong both returned.

“Work really hard so you can come back fast!” Nina shouted, waving.

Ed smiled and waved back. “We will! Be good, okay?”

As the train began to pick up speed to exit the station, Ed had to pull himself back in from the window, and was immediately encapsulated by the massive arms of the Major.

“Oh Edward Elric, you really care about that little girl, don’t you?” Armstrong gushed weepily. “Such a beautiful and kind thing, for you and your brother and the Lt. Colonel to take her on now that she’s lost everything in the world!”

Ed tried to wiggle his way free of the muscle-bound hug, growling under his breath. “Major, cut it out! Get off me!”

This was going to be an interesting journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be sure to leave me a comment if you're enjoying this fic so far! I'd love to know what people's thoughts are :3c


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually edited the last little chunk of chapter 6 after posting it originally (updated on Feb 21, 2020) no major changes but just a heads up in case you were rereading and were like "hold up -- was that like that before?" you're not remembering wrong, it actually is different :P
> 
> anyway new character POV!!! I like writing from the POV's of diff characters, especially those side characters who get just enough attention in the original story to be interesting, but with enough left to reader interpretation that you can really have a lot of fun playing in their headspace :3 there will be more kittycat shenanigans in the next chapter, I pwomise.

Tim Marcoh was a man whose whole body was heavy with guilt. He had grown accustomed to it over the years, the lead chain around his soul that dragged behind him wherever he walked. He had to grow accustomed to it, or else there would be no way to continue living. But that didn’t mean he had forgiven himself. No, he was still far from that. He didn’t believe he ever deserved to be forgiven. Which is why Dr. Mauro never turned down a patient, ever. How could an already irredeemable man be so impudent as to turn away someone who needed his help?

He had never made a housecall to the train station before, but he wasn’t about to tell the man on the phone “no.” 

The call was for a station worker who had done something to her foot or ankle while working; apparently she couldn’t put any weight on it. So Tim gathered up his housecall equipment into a briefcase, and tucked the small vial containing the stone into the inside pocket of his jacket. 

The injury wasn’t bad enough to justify using the stone, and although the woman seemed rather disappointed that she wasn’t magically cured, Tim couldn’t bring himself to use the stone for something as frivolous as a small sprain. He only ever wanted to use that power to save lives or ease tremendous pain -- using it for less than that would be an unfair exchange for what had been sacrificed to make it. 

He bandaged her swollen ankle, prescribed her a week of sick leave, and instructed her to put ice on it as soon as she got home. She and the station manager thanked him, and he assured them it was the least he could do.

While Tim had been treating his patient in the station manager’s office, a train had pulled in. He saw it when he left the office, as he figured he would just cut across the platform to head home. The train itself wasn’t interesting to Tim, so he paid it no mind.

“Dr. Marcoh!” bellowed a deep, resonant voice.

Tim froze. It had been so many years since he’d last heard that name. His heart thudded erratically in his chest.

“Dr. Marcoh, is that you?!”

It felt like it took an eternity for Tim to turn his head and look at who was calling him. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and the dread that was already crawling up his throat forced itself into his mouth even faster when he saw Major Alex Louis Armstrong with his head stuck out the window of the train.

Tim didn’t have time to think. He turned, and he sprinted away, running as fast as he could back into the safety of town, back to the quaint little home he had been so generously offered by the village folk when he first arrived. By the time he reached it his lungs were burning with each gasp of air -- he wasn’t young anymore, and he hadn’t needed to run like that in a very long time. But adrenaline was a hell of a drug, so he pushed himself up and started frantically going through his cabinets to find where he’d hidden away his pistol.

 _They’ve finally come for me,_ Tim thought, his mind racing. _They’re going to bring me back, to force me to create more of them. But I won’t! Never again!_

With shaking hands, he loaded the pistol. Several shells dropped to the floor, but Tim just silently took more from the ammo pack rather than get down on all fours to pick up what had fallen. There was no time. 

Once the pistol was loaded, Tim flicked the safety off and dragged one of his kitchen chairs over so he could sit about six feet from the door. Sweat trickled down his brow. His mouth was dry. His grip around the revolver was tight, where he had it resting on one knee, facing the door. 

A few minutes passed, and Tim’s nervous heartbeat began to slow to a more manageable rhythm. He began thinking about how to escape. Could he really shoot Major Armstrong if it came to it? He was a big, powerful man and Tim was not a fighter -- would a bullet even cut it?

As he was having these thoughts, Tim heard footsteps coming up the stairs to his door. He shot upright, out of his chair, and took a step forward, heart hammering once more. He raised the gun in front of him with both hands, but he couldn’t keep his aim straight for how much he was shaking. He didn’t want to go back. Even if it meant he had to shoot Armstrong. More than anything, he _never_ wanted to go back to that laboratory.

“Dr. Marcoh? It’s me, Alex Louis Armstrong; do you remember me?”

Tim kept silent, swallowing some of the bile in his throat. 

“Screw this,” said a younger, unfamiliar voice. The door began to open. Standing there was an unfamiliar young man wearing a red hooded jacket. Reacting on pure, panicked instinct, Tim pulled the trigger, and **_BANG!_ **

The shot rang in his ears for a moment, almost drowning out the surprised yelp from the young man.

“I’m not going back! You can’t make me go!” Tim shouted, his voice trembling just as much as his hands.

"Please, Dr. Marcoh, calm down!" Armstrong said, raising one hand in a placating gesture. His other arm was occupied with holding up a large crate that looked like it contained a broken suit of armor.

Tim refused to lower the gun. "Then you’re here to silence me? Is that it?" he asked, still frantic. “If you think I won’t put up a fight, you’re wrong!”

“There’s really no need for that. Will you please put down the gun? No one here means you any harm,” said Armstrong, his voice far too gentle for such an imposing figure.

Tim felt himself falter. “You’re… You’re not here on orders? Who is this boy, anyway? What are you carrying?”

"Those are two long stories that I’m not qualified to tell, and that shouldn’t be told on a front porch at gunpoint, regardless," Armstrong sighed. "And no, I had no idea you were even here. I simply saw you at the station as we were passing through."

It took Tim a second, but eventually he found he believed him. Armstrong had always been such an earnest man, clever and proud but most of all, compassionate. If it were any other military man Tim had known from before, he wouldn't have given in, but he trusted Armstrong's eyes, bright blue and sparkling with honesty. He clicked the safety of the pistol back on and fell back into his chair with a defeated sigh. His knees felt like rubber.

"Well, come in then, I suppose."

It was only once they had all gathered at Tim's kitchen table that he really got a good look at the boy Armstrong had brought with him. Everything about the kid was strange. He was short with a round face that told Tim he was still in the early stages of puberty, and the right sleeve of his red jacket was limp and empty. An amputee at his age? Tim's heart ached for him. The boy also wore the hood of his jacket up, even when he stepped inside. There was something strange about his features that Tim couldn't quite place, until he realized it was the boy's eyes. They were an unusual amber colour that Tim had heard described before, but never seen in person. The pupils were also strange; they didn't seem to be quite the right shape.

A tense silence had fallen over the room. Tim sat with his hands clasped on the table, the nervous energy from firing the gun still coursing through him.

“I’d heard that you fled the military,” Armstrong began. “And that you’d taken top-secret materials with you. But to think you were out in the countryside this whole time, living under a different name…”

Ah, so Armstrong had spoken to some of the townspeople to find him. It made sense. “I couldn’t take it anymore,” Tim said, hoarse. “It didn’t matter that I’d been ordered to do it, it was still my hands that were bloodied to make that… that  _ thing _ . So many innocent people…” He choked up, unable to speak what he had done.

“Thing? What thing?” asked the boy.

Tim ignored him and bowed his head. “Nothing I could do could possibly make up for what I’ve done. I could give up my whole life and it wouldn’t be enough. Still, I… I needed to do  _ something, _ so I came here to practice medicine and hopefully put a little bit of good back into the world. It’s not much, and it doesn’t excuse my sins, but…” he trailed off, squeezing his folded hands tighter together.

Armstrong’s chair creaked slightly. “Doctor, what was it that you were ordered to research? What ‘thing’ has caused you so much grief?”

Tim swallowed thickly. He steeled himself, lifted his head, and said, “the philosopher’s stone.”

The boy’s reaction was instantaneous. His eyes widened, his pupils dilated, and his mouth fell open as he inhaled sharply. He knew what it was, then. Who was this child?

“When I left, I took my research with me,” Tim explained. “That, and the stone itself.”

“You have a stone?!” the boy demanded, leaning forward over the table.

Tim reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the vial, uncorking it and spilling its contents out onto the table. The red material flowed like a liquid, but formed a semisolid oval to rest on the table. After measuring the shock from his guests, Tim explained how just as the philosopher’s stone goes by many names, it can also take many forms.

“This is still an incomplete product,” he said. “I’ve been using it to treat patients in town, but there’s no telling when it will reach its limit and become unusable.”

“Still, incomplete product or not, its power is considerable,” said the boy, raising his gloved hand to his chin. “Just like the war in Ishval or the false priest in Liore… If something as potent as that can be created, then surely a finished product can be made with the right research!” He suddenly broke out into a grin, and he stood up from his chair, slamming his hand down onto the table in excitement. “Dr. Marcoh! Will you please let me see your materials?”

Tim felt his blood go cold and he couldn’t help but stare at the stranger. How did someone so young know of such things? Where were his parents? Why was he travelling with Armstrong? Tim turned his gaze on his old friend. “Major, who exactly is this boy?” 

Armstrong’s eyes were piercing. “Dr. Marcoh, this is Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist.”

Tim blinked. He couldn’t possibly have heard that right. His gaze flickered to the boy, taking in the determined and slightly defense posture. Suddenly, Tim couldn’t bear to look at him anymore and he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “A child state alchemist? I’ve heard the rumors but I never actually thought --”

“I know that it’s unconventional,” Edward said, cutting him off. “Some would even say it’s foolish. But I chose this path, because it’s how I’m going to achieve my goal. Your research can help me do what I’ve set out to do, Dr. Marcoh.”

“And what is that?” Tim prompted. 

When Tim had woken up that morning, he hadn't been prepared for the possibility of a fifteen-year-old boy showing up at his house and telling him about human transmutation. Still, Tim did his best to take it in stride. He listened patiently as Edward told him about picking up alchemy from a very young age, about his mother's death, about losing his arm and his leg to the failed attempt at bringing her back, and about how the suit of armor sitting beside the table was actually his little brother.

"Um, yeah, hi," said the armor, and Tim had to hold in a sigh. "My name's Alphonse. I didn't want to say anything in case it freaked you out."

"That's fine, Alphonse," Tim said. He stood up, and leaned over to examine the boy in the armor. "I see. So you were able to transmute your brother's soul?" he asked, directed at Edward. It was an impressive feat, for sure, one that Tim himself had only been able to perform with the help of a philosopher's stone.

"There's one other thing," Edward said as Tim returned to his seat. Then the boy reached up and pulled his hood down, revealing a pair of triangular, cat-like ears perched on the top of his hair, the fur on them the same gold colour as the hair they were nestled in.

At this point, Tim didn't know if he had it in him to be shocked. Still, he stared, and in his mind, a few things about Ed clicked into place. The strange eyes, the almost feral way the boy carried himself, the sharp smile, the  _ growl _ in his voice. It all made sense now.

"You're a chimera," Tim realized, his heart sinking even further. "A child chimera... Could the military stoop any lower? Is this what they're doing in that lab now?"

Ed's ears pricked up as he leaned forward in interest. "Lab? What lab? Shou Tucker's lab?"

Tim shook his head. Although that name did sound vaguely familiar, he didn't know who it was. "The military's chimera lab. I don't know much about it, but some of the men working under me went back and forth between our lab and the chimera lab, which is the only reason I knew that's what they were really working on in the first place. It was all highly confidential."

"The military has a secret chimera lab?" Armstrong repeated in a low voice. 

Tim clenched his hands. "From what I overheard, I can only assume they were attempting to create human chimeras to act as enhanced soldiers. That's just my own personal guess, though."

Edward seemed stunned by this. "You're saying that there's  _ state sanctioned  _ human chimera experiments?! What the  _ FUCK!"  _

"That's not where this happened?" Tim asked in surprise, gesturing to Ed.

“No,” Ed replied in a growl. There was an old, simmering anger all over his face -- however this had happened, it hadn’t been Edward’s choice. “But does that mean there are others? Human chimeras, I mean?”

Tim shrugged helplessly. “I’m afraid I don’t know. My research was purely centred on the stone.”

“I see,” said Edward, and he finally took his seat again. “Where is this research now?”

“I cannot give it to you,” Tim said firmly, though now he was nervous. He knew better than to take Edward lightly just because of his age -- he was clearly a prodigy; strong, smart, and capable of powerful alchemy. Refusing him could be risky, but Tim wanted to reason with him. He had to convince Ed that the stone was not worth pursuing.

“Why not?” Ed asked, his eyes narrowing and his cat-like ears swivelling backwards.

“I am a doctor and an alchemist -- a man of science, much like yourself,” Tim began. “Like many scientists, I am not quick to judge things based on subjective morality -- which I tell you only to emphasize that what I am about to say is gravely serious.” Tim paused, waiting for some sort of reaction. Armstrong and Alphonse were watching him intently, but Tim only took his cue to continue when Edward nodded. “Creating a philosopher's stone is an evil act. You mustn't pursue it.”

“Evil?” Alphonse echoed. “What do you mean?”

Tim clenched his hands together and shook his head. “I can’t tell you. Please, just take my word,” he pleaded. “Seeking the stone will cause nothing but misery. I urge you to find another way to achieve your goal.”

Edward’s ears were still facing backwards, and his face had taken on a dark scowl. “What about it makes it so bad? Just because you couldn’t handle whatever price you paid, doesn’t mean I won’t be able to. Tell me honestly, Doc: do you think I could make one?”

Tim gulped. “I do. I really do. With your talents, it wouldn’t even be a challenge for you. But you can’t.”

For a moment Ed’s ears relaxed slightly, pinning back and forth, and Tim wondered if maybe he’d gotten through to him. But then the boy sighed and stood up. “Fine,” he said, oddly calm. “Come on, Major, let’s get going before we miss our train.”

“Right,” Armstrong agreed, rising from his chair.

“You won’t tell the military I’m here, will you?” Tim asked, glancing back and forth between the two state alchemists.

“You have a lovely practice here, Dr. Mauro, but I hardly think a small-town doctor is worth a report to the military,” Armstrong said with a wink. Tim sighed in relief. Armstrong smiled and offered a handshake as farewell. “It was good to see you, Tim.”

“You too, Alex,” Tim replied weakly as he accepted the shake.

The motley group gathered themselves quickly, and left. Tim leaned back on the door after closing it, his thoughts in a tizzy. Had he really gotten through to Ed? It was hard to say for sure, but he had a sinking feeling that he hadn’t. A boy like him didn’t get to be where he was by giving up just because a grown-up told him “no”. 

The thought of Ed continuing to pursue this, of getting his information from somewhere else, maybe even from  _ them, _ and not realizing what it meant until it was too late, was really what changed Tim’s mind. Maybe by seeing Tim’s research, Ed would finally be discouraged off the path to the philosopher’s stone. 

And, Tim thought, Edward was an incredibly sharp boy. Maybe by handing him this small clue, he would be able to piece together the secret of the Fifth Laboratory, of the awful group of people involved in it, of the corruption in the military ranks. Swallowing his worry and his doubt, Tim went to his desk to locate a piece of paper and a pen. Though it hurt to pass such a burden onto the shoulders of someone so young, it was hard to deny that Edward was going to get himself into trouble either way. Tim  _ really _ wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that boy got hurt in a way that could have been avoided if he had been better prepared for what he was facing. It was for that reason he found himself running through town for the second time that day, this time towards the train station instead of away.

“WAIT!” Tim shouted, seeing the Major’s broad back and Edward’s red coat on the platform. They both turned to him, and he slowed his run to a walk, eventually stopping and putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Dr. Marcoh?” Edward said quizzically. 

Tim straightened up, still breathing heavily. “I hope I’m not wrong about you,” he said, pulling out the folded piece of paper. He held it out, but didn’t let go right away when Ed took it between his fingers. “I hope that you’ll be able to see the truth within the truth.” Tim stared hard at Edward, then released the paper, allowing Ed to take it.

Edward smiled, and though Tim could see genuine gratitude there, it was also somewhat somber. “Thanks, Doc.”

Tim turned on his heel. “Say nothing of it. Travel safely.” He began to walk away, hands in his trouser pockets.

By the time he got home, all Tim wanted to do was lay down and take a nap. So much running around, so much emotional stress -- he could practically feel the grey hairs multiplying. He closed the door to his home with a sigh, and then looked up sharply, his blood going cold. He wasn’t alone.

“Hello, Doctor,” the woman said. She stood in the corner of the room, her beautiful dark hair cascading over her shoulders, drawing Tim’s eye to the red emblem tattooed on her chest, just below the collarbone. “I’ve found you,” she purred, her dark lipsticked smile cold and cruel.

“You,” Tim whispered weakly. His knees buckled. It was all for naught anyway. 

They’d found him.


	8. Chapter 8

_ Loud. Danger. Protect.  _

He stood between  _ young, kitten, friend _ and  _ bigger, older, danger. _ His hair was raised all along his body; he was big, see? He would protect.  _ Older, danger _ tried to come close, and he hissed.  _ Stay away! _

There was a rumbling in the ground. He could feel it in his paws, in his whiskers, in the fur of his ears.  _ Danger, protect kitten friend PROTECT HER -- _

Ed’s eyes snapped open. The rumbling hadn’t stopped, and Ed remembered that he was on a train. He relaxed against the seat, realizing how tense he’d been when he woke. 

“Dreaming?” asked Major Armstrong, startling Ed’s eyes open again.

“Yeah, I guess,” Ed replied, leaning his head against the window to feel the reverberations of the train’s movement travel through the glass and into his skull. “I already forgot what it was about,” he lied, frowning out over the green countryside. “We’re getting close to Resembool.”

“Mmm,” hummed the Major. It seemed like he had more to say, but he didn't voice the thoughts, and instead they travelled the rest of the way in silence.

Dr. Marcoh’s note was burning a hole in Ed’s pocket.  _ Central Library, First Branch. _ Ed couldn’t help the anticipatory grin that curled up on his face as he recalled the words. Something deep in his chest was humming with satisfaction at the thought of  _ tracking it down, drawing near, ready to pounce -- _

Ed shook his head and sighed. He slumped down in his seat and started picking fussily at his nails with his thumb. He’d taken his glove off before he fell asleep because he could feel his hand getting sweaty, and now he felt like all kinds of dirt and grime was getting under his nails. He’d tried to cut them down from their clawed appearance, back in East City when he’d spent the day with Nina and Al in the hotel room, but he couldn’t get them as short as he was used to. It had hurt to even try, and when he’d tried to force himself through the pain, he ended up with a little bead of blood under the nail for his trouble. There were a lot of little changes that he’d been noticing since the night of the transmutation. Strange physical and mental tics that he often didn’t realize he was doing until he caught himself.

Before his thoughts could wander too much farther in that direction, Ed glanced up out the window and saw the familiar train station coming into view. Using his teeth to pull it down all the way, Ed put his glove back on and got ready to exit the train. His stomach was tight with nerves, though he tried not to show it. It had been a good several months since he’d last seen the Rockbells, and though it would be nice to talk to them again, he’d have to get through the torture of explaining himself first before he could get to Winry’s laughter and Granny’s home cooking.

As they made their way through the village, some people recognized him and waved hello.

“You seem pretty well known in your hometown,” Armstrong commented, ever observant.

Ed scoffed, leaving Alphonse to answer. “It’s a small town, so yeah, everybody at least kind of knows who everyone else is. A lot of these people grew up with our Mom.”

“I see,” was all Armstrong said in reply. Ed was grateful for an otherwise silent journey up the hill to the Rockbell’s house.

As they drew closer, Ed could see Granny sitting on the front steps, puffing away on her old pipe. Den was sitting beside her, and the dog’s tail immediately started wagging as she noticed visitors. Ed very suddenly remembered that he was part cat now, and wondered just how the reunion with Den would go, forget Granny and Winry. The fact that the closer they got, the more Ed could really  _ smell _ the dog -- and that the smell was making his fur stand on end -- wasn’t promising. 

“Hey Granny, we’re home,” Ed called, halting in his tracks a good twenty feet from the porch.

Granny tapped the ash out of her pipe. “I can see that. And looking rather worse for wear, too, it seems.” 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Ed muttered to himself.

“WINRY!” Granny yelled. “Our best customers are back!”

At this point Den had gotten up and was trotting over, tail wagging happily. Ed tried to keep Armstrong between him and the dog, but it seemed that Den had finally caught on to  _ his _ scent, and was now persistently trying to approach. Every nerve in his body was at war, half of him crying out  _ it’s only Den! She’s not a threat! _ While the other half screamed  _ Dog! Dog! Danger! Dog! _

“What’s the matter with you, Ed? Just let her sniff you!” Granny called.

At that, Ed forced himself to stay still, raising his head and holding his breath. The smell of  _ dog, danger, dog, _ was too strong. Den finally started sniffing at his legs, his hand, and then Den was growling, and  _ that _ was what set Ed off. 

_ Growling! Challenger! Predator! DOG! _

Ed hissed, entirely involuntarily, and swung his suitcase in a shooing motion. Den backed up, still growling, and her ears were flicking back and forth. She was probably just as mixed up as Ed was. Ed felt poofed up and defensive; his heart thudded against his ribcage and he flexed his fingers, but his  _ claws _ were gone and he had no way to  _ defend, protect, stay away… _

“My word! What has gotten into the both of you?” Granny snapped as she came forward to take Den by the collar.  _ “Den _ . Inside.”

Den reluctantly allowed herself to be sent inside, and as the smell faded, Ed was able to wrangle himself into a more composed state, only for it to be shattered again by a flying spanner wrench. Ed wasn't quite fast enough to dodge it, and he hissed again in the direction it had come from.

“EDWARD ELRIC! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BEAUTIFUL AUTOMAIL?!”

Ed rubbed his throbbing head and glared up at Winry where she stood on her balcony. "ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!" he shouted back at her.

Winry had the gall to laugh at him, but he somehow found it in himself to forgive her when her laughter softened into a fond smile and she called out, "Welcome home!"

Ed grumbled under his breath as he trudged towards the front door. "Granny, can you put Den in another room or something?" he asked as he passed her.

"Sure," she replied, though she was giving Ed a strange look. "Aren't you going to introduce me to this strapping young man?" she asked, gesturing with her pipe to Armstrong.

"Major Alex Louis Armstrong, at your service," Armstrong said, his moustache twitching. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rockbell."

"Pinako," Granny corrected. "Thank you for looking after these two. I hope they haven't caused you too much trouble."

Armstrong chuckled and Ed shot a glare at Granny, who returned a flat, hard look.

"Alright," Pinako sighed, nodding for Ed to go in. "Let's have a look at you boys. It seems you have quite the story to tell."

Just as Ed had expected, Winry was devastated by the shattered state of the automail. He would have felt guilty, except it hadn’t even been his fault! That and there was no room for guilt when fear for his life took over as Winry pulled another wrench on him while she demanded he explain himself. 

He gave an abridged version of the event, telling them that he’d been defending himself against someone with offensive alchemy. He carefully failed to mention how close he came to death that day.

“Alright, well, let me have a look at your leg, while we’re at it,” Pinako said, pulling out a footstool and motioning for Ed to sit. He did so, and started tugging the left leg of his trousers up. 

“What, are you suddenly modest?” Granny asked, giving him that same weird look from before.

Ed paused, and swallowed the anxiety building in his chest. He was never going to be able to keep this a secret from Granny and Winry -- aside from being the closest thing to family, they were basically his  _ doctors, _ they were going to see his body eventually. He sighed and stood back up, fumbling with his belt buckle one-handed.

“Try not to freak out, okay? Loud noises kinda suck now,” he said. He watched the Rockbells exchange worried glances, and then Ed tugged his hood off, freeing his ears. He didn’t wait for a reaction, immediately starting to shimmy out of his trousers, letting his tail out in the open for the first time since East City and leaving him in his boxers. When he looked up, he winced at Winry’s expression. She was wide-eyed, both hands covering her mouth, shocked all the way through. Granny was a little harder to read. Definitely surprised, and concerned, but there was also a hard set to her jaw that Ed couldn’t interpret.

His tail had been aching from the bumpy train ride, so he reached back to rub the base of it before sitting back down and kicking his trousers the rest of the way off. Their stares felt heavy on him, causing his ears to flick back. Winry inhaled sharply.

“I suppose that explains what happened outside,” Granny said wryly, breaking some of the tension. Ed tried to smirk.

“Ed… What  _ happened?” _ Winry asked, and she looked so distraught -- it made Ed feel things he didn’t want to confront.

“Long story short, I got caught in a transmutation circle that would have ruined a little girl’s life, so it ruined mine instead,” he said, as blase as he could manage. “It’s not really a big deal. When we find a way to get Al’s body back we’ll just do the same for me. It’s fine.”

“You’re a CAT, Ed!” Winry cried. “Are you really okay with that?!”

“Yeah, I am!” Ed shot back angrily. “I have to be, until we find a way to do something about it! Right now there’s nothing we can do, so I have to be okay with it, because otherwise, what, I just sit and mope and complain about it?! Hell no! I’m going to keep moving towards getting back to normal, same as before!”

He thumped his tail against the couch for emphasis. His lips twitched, wanting to pull back and bare his fangs, but he wouldn’t let himself do something so aggressive towards Winry.

“Well said, brother,” said Al, though he sounded surprised. Ed supposed that made sense -- he hadn’t really let himself talk about this to Al yet. He hadn’t been sure how to put how he felt into words until just now anyway.

“Plus, it’s kind of cool,” Ed bluffed, turning his head to the side in a haughty motion. He just wanted everyone to stop looking at him like he was  _ pitiful. _ “I can see way better in the dark now, and my hearing is better -- it’s not terrible.”

“Did it hurt?” Winry asked, her voice soft as she took a few steps closer.

Ed gulped. “Uh, well. It wasn’t  _ pleasant, _ but neither is installing automail, so.” 

Winry lowered herself onto the couch beside him, and Ed shifted his tail out of the way automatically. She was still looking at him sort of sadly, but there was an intense curiosity that accompanied it now. She reached up towards his head, and Ed instinctively leaned away, causing her to hesitate. After a few seconds of twisting his ears back and forth indecisively, Ed finally caved to the openness of her expression. He closed his eyes against the blush he felt burning across his face as he tilted his head against her hand, letting her touch his ears. He had to admit, it did feel kinda nice. 

When Winry lifted her hand away, Ed felt a little disappointed, but then again if she’d kept it up he probably would’ve started purring or something, and his thoughts on that were  _ oh hell fucking no. _ He would actually die of mortification if he started purring in front of so many people without even the excuse of being asleep.

“Well!” Winry jumped up from the couch, forcing a smile. Was it Ed’s imagination, or was she a bit pink in the face? “I better get started on your new arm! How quickly do you hope to be on the road again?”

Ed blinked. “Uh, as soon as possible if that’s okay. Can you do it in a week?”

“Give us some credit, Ed,” Granny said, taking a pull from her pipe. “Three days,” she said on the exhale.

“Thanks,” Ed said weakly, amazed by Granny’s ability to take things in stride. “I’ll be sure to pay the rush order fee.”

Winry gathered up the remains of Ed’s old arm and scurried up the stairs without another word. Ed noticed Al trying to catch his eye, and raised an eyebrow at him. Al just shook his head, and Ed wished he could read his brother’s expression, but it was next to impossible when Al’s face couldn’t actually move. 

The good news was that Ed  _ was _ apparently growing, according to Granny’s assessment of his automail leg. Even if it was only by a little bit. He let her outfit him with a spare leg, and though he wobbled a bit upon first putting his weight on it, his tail helped him keep his balance and he knew he would be fine. 

~~~

“Tell me, Major,” said Pinako. “What kind of life have those two boys been living? Under what circumstances did Ed become…” The crank of her wrench on the automail’s bolts filled the lapse in her speech. “You know.”

Alex rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “My understanding of the situation is that there was a state alchemist who was planning to attempt a terrible transmutation on his own young daughter. Edward and Alphonse foiled his plot and saved the girl, but in the process Edward became fused with the girl’s pet cat.”

Pinako placed her tool on the table alongside the metal limb. Alex noticed her leaning heavily on the table, and wondered if he should ask if she was alright. “It’s always alchemy,” she muttered under her breath. Then she sighed and picked up her wrench again. “Ed may have a prickly exterior, but he’s a good boy, in his heart. They’re both good boys. If they really did save that little girl, he doesn’t regret it one bit, I’ll bet.”

Alex smiled despite himself, warmth growing in his chest. It was true that Edward put forth a somewhat brash demeanor, but Alex had seen the depth for which Ed cared about people. It was truly moving, how despite the tragedies of life, the Elric brothers never stopped, and they never gave in to the face of despair and fear. 

“Where is Edward, anyhow?” Alex asked. He rather felt like giving the boy a hug.

“Visiting his mother’s grave,” Pinako replied. “I wanted to send Den with him, but he wasn’t having it, so the neighbour’s boy went with him instead.”

Well, it was good that he wasn’t alone, at least. Resembool should by all accounts be safe from Scar, but that was no reason to let a one-armed boy wander around outside when someone had tried to take his life not two days prior. Alex would have offered to accompany him himself, but if Edward deliberately hadn’t mentioned to Alex that he was going, then clearly this was a very personal thing for him and Alex wouldn’t want to intrude. “How long ago did she pass?” he asked Pinako gently. He wanted to understand these boys a little better, these children with such strange existences, so dogged in their pursuits of returning to normality. “I notice the Elrics call you Granny; was she your daughter?”

“No, no, Trisha wasn’t my daughter. I knew her when she was a girl, she grew up here in the village, but really my connection to them is through their father. He was an old drinking pal of mine. And it’s been ten years since her passing.”

“Where is their father now?” Alex asked, curiosity getting the best of him. Ten years was a long time ago -- at this point the Elrics had lived longer without their mother than they had with her. 

Pinako snorted. “Not here. He’s a strange one, he is. Ed reminds me of him, sometimes, though don’t tell him I said so. He left the village before Trisha passed; even I don’t know where he is now.”

Alex hummed in acknowledgement. A deceased mother and an absent father -- the Elric brothers were as good as orphans. “And what of Miss Winry’s parents?” 

“Dead,” Pinako said, far more indelicately than she had spoken of Mrs. Elric’s death. Still, she continued her work on the leg with the same precision as before as she explained. “My son and daughter-in-law were both surgeons. They were called upon by the military to serve as front-line medics in Ishval. They died there, in the middle of the war.”

The mention of Ishval had Alex leaning back in his seat, trying not to remember the screams. “It was a terrible war,” he intoned.

“Was there ever a good one?” Pinako scoffed.

Alex closed his eyes and saw the limp body of a child, lifeless eyes the same colour as the bloodstains on her dusty clothes. “Not that I’ve seen,” he sighed. “Do you require anything?” he asked suddenly, wanting to get up and move to distract from the bad memories. “More firewood, perhaps?”

Pinako looked up from her work for the first time during the entire conversation and offered Alex a smile, knowing and kind. “Why don’t you see how Al is doing, maybe keep him company for a bit.”

“A splendid idea, Madam Rockbell,” Alex agreed heartily, rising from his chair.

Pinako laughed at him. “Just call me Pinako, dear. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready. You seem like you could eat a lot, so it makes it worth the effort to cook a big meal. I haven’t had reason to do so in a while.”

“If you need any assistance with anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Alex said, sincerely.

“Nonsense, you’re a guest. Now scram, you’re distracting me.” Pinako made a shooing motion with her wrench. 

Alex chuckled under his breath and left to go find Alphonse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (btw I drew Furmetal!Ed. sorry it's kinda sketchy I only just fixed my drawing tablet and this is the first thing I drew with it lol) http://tiny.cc/jvikkz


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _(:3」∠)_

After being kicked out of Winry’s workshop, Ed moodily joined his brother outside. It was the third day already, wasn’t she supposed to be done by now? He knew that he shouldn’t be so impatient, that automail was complicated and difficult to make, but he didn’t like feeling so  _ useless. _ He just wanted his arm back so they could get a move on to Central and maybe actually learn something useful for once.

Ed flopped backwards onto the grass, staring up at the lazy clouds with a huff. “It seems like all we ever do anymore is  _ wait, _ ” he complained. He’d been spending the past two days avoiding Den, avoiding Armstrong’s weirdly emotional embraces, and periodically checking in with Winry until she got annoyed enough to physically push him out of her workshop.

“I know what you mean,” Al commiserated. “First with Nina, now with this… At least you can get up and move around.”

“Yeah, but there’s still nothing to  _ doooo.” _ Ed squirmed in the grass a little, flailing his arm and legs to be theatrical for Al’s benefit and also to let out some of the pent-up energy in his body. “I’m gonna go crazy at this rate!”

“You could always play with Den,” Al suggested in a teasing voice.

Ed’s ears flipped back and he scoffed. “Shut up, you jerk. I know I overreacted. It’s not my fault, okay?”

Al chuckled and Ed decided to let it slide. He couldn’t really take issue with anything that made his brother laugh; it had become such a rare sound since their attempt to bring Mom back. 

Ed sighed and raised his left (and only) hand towards the sky, peering at the clouds between his outstretched fingers. His mind drifted to Dr. Marcoh’s research and the philosopher’s stone. Why had the man been so reluctant to share it with him? What had made him change his mind at the last minute? What was the truth within the truth that he was supposed to find? Did the military really have other human chimeras? Ed let his hand curl into a fist and lower back down to rest against his forehead. He had far too many questions, questions that he would never get the answer to just  _ lying _ there in the grass --

The sound of footsteps made Ed’s ears perk up, and he raised his head to see Winry run out of the house and down the porch, clutching an automail arm. “It’s done!” she called out when she spotted Ed.

“Finally,” Ed said with an excited grin.

The excitement dulled, of course, once he was sitting on the couch, bracing himself for the nerve reconnections. He could feel his fur standing on end with the anticipation. He had Winry at his shoulder and Granny at his knee, plugging the new limbs into the ports and fiddling around with wires and hydraulics before the final connections. Already the familiar weight of steel in the ports was comforting, but Ed would be glad to finally banish the phantom pains with the return of something that could actually conduct his brain signals into functional output instead of dead-ending at his stumps.

“Try to hold still,” Granny warned. “I’m connecting them now. Three… two… one…”

Ed braced himself but still couldn’t help scrunching up his face as white hot sensation flared in his leg port. He clamped down on a noise of pain, refusing to scream even if it did hurt. A second wave followed in his shoulder as Winry connected something without warning. He thumped his tail against the couch and bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ride out the searing feeling on both sides of his body.

_ Pain, hurting, can’t show it, not weak. _

For once Ed couldn’t even tell if the thought was coming from himself or his cat instincts. Either way, after a few long seconds, the sharp pain faded to a dull ache, and the Rockbells finished up with replacing the protective casings for the functional inner components, and they both stepped back to admire their work. Ed took a few calming breaths while he rotated his right shoulder.

“Feels good,” he said to Winry. He reached up over his head and then all the way forward to test his mobility. It was only then that he noticed something different in the design of the new automail. He held his hand up in front of his face with a frown. Before, the details on the hands had been simplistic and functional, Winry not even bothering to add realistic details like fingernails. This new automail, however, had  _ claws. _ Slightly curved, sharp tips to the fingers that were subtle from a distance, but undeniable close up. He glanced at his new leg but no such additions were present on his toes. 

Ed locked eyes with Winry and she shrugged, though her face was turning pink. “What, you don’t like it?” she demanded, and though she was trying to sound truculent Ed could see the genuine insecurity laying underneath.

“I mean it’s kind of on-the-nose,” Ed said, curling his hand into a fist and then relaxing it again. “But it’s also kind of badass. I don’t hate it,” he admitted, and he wasn’t even lying.

“I also upped the percentage of chrome,” Winry explained. “Which means it should be lighter and cause less strain, but the tradeoff is that it’s not as strong, so don’t go doing anything stupid, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ed stood up and began testing his balance and mobility through a few stretches, already getting a feel for how the new limbs were settling. He paused just long enough to toss a shirt on before he was out the door to find Al and get him back into fighting form. 

As Ed laid out all the bits of metal they’d collected from when Al got shattered (along with a bit of extra scrap, provided by Granny) he heard Armstong’s heavy footsteps come up behind. He flipped one ear back to acknowledge his presence, but continued with his task.

“Is there a reason you had to wait until you had your arm back to restore your brother?” Armstrong asked.

Ed straightened up and dusted his hands together. “Yeah, there is. We can’t risk anything disturbing the blood seal that keeps his soul attached to the armor, so you have to be careful. There’s a trick to it, one that doesn’t really translate well into a physical array, so I have to do it like this,” Ed explained, clapping his hands and feeling the ringing in his head of his inner alchemical matrix rearranging itself for his designs. “You ready, Al?”

“Yep.” Al nodded.

Ed knelt down and touched Al’s leg with one hand and the pile of loose metal with the other. Bright blue transmutation energy flickered to life under his palms, and the metal began to shift, flowing like a thick liquid until it met and fused with Al’s armor plating. Ed guided it to seal up the hole, to extend and articulate into an elbow, a knee, a hand, a foot. When he stepped back, the last weak arcs of lightning leapt away from Al and disappeared. Ed grinned at his brother as he stood up, testing the new limbs.

“Ready to get right to it?” Ed asked.

“You know it,” Al replied, and chased Ed a little farther from the building so they could spar, as was traditional.

Al started his onslaught, putting Ed on the defensive right away. Ed blocked and redirected blow after blow, familiar with his brother’s patterns enough that he didn’t even have to think too hard about it, he just  _ reacted, _ movements flowing smoothly between dodging and blocking as Al’s huge fists rained down on him. He noticed right away that the lighter weight of his arm was aiding his speed, and he felt himself grin. Al lashed out towards him with a right haymaker, and Ed grabbed on, jumping up and using Al’s arm as leverage to swing up and over his brother, landing in a crouch behind him. Al whipped around, but Ed was already moving, charging towards Al in a tackle that only had enough force behind it to make Al take a single step backwards for balance. 

From behind, Ed heard barking, and his hair raised in response. 

“Den, no!” Granny shouted, and Ed glanced over his shoulder to see Den galloping towards the roughhousing. She probably just wanted to play, but that wasn’t what Ed was thinking about. He was thinking about _ predator approaching, running fast, barking dog danger!!! _

Before he even realized he was doing it, Ed was scrambling up Al’s body, needing to get somewhere safe, up high,  _ can’t reach me here, na-nana-na-na. _

Ed ended up crouching on Al’s back with his feet planted firmly on his shoulders and his hands clinging tightly to the lip of the armored collar. Ed was growling, low in his throat, trying to warn the dog away, his ears pinned back and his tail lashing side-to-side. Den circled the brothers, still barking. 

“Brother! Hey!” Al protested, reaching up towards Ed. Agitated, Ed swiped at the hand, batting it away. “I’m not a climbing post!” Al complained, his tone bordering on whiny. “Broth _ er!” _

Ed was too focused on Den to really reply. When the dog jumped up playfully on Al’s front, Ed hissed at her. 

_ Stay away! My safe place, safe person, back off! _

“Den! Here, girl!” shouted Granny. Den whined and circled Al one more time before reluctantly trotting back off towards the porch. Ed followed her with his gaze, feeling himself relax as the dog-scent faded from his nose. He watched Granny take Den by the collar, telling her to sit, meanwhile Winry was looking at Ed,  _ giggling. _

Suddenly embarrassed, Ed leapt off of Al’s back, landing lightly on his feet and tugging on the hem of his shirt like he was adjusting it. “I think that might be our cue to get out of here,” Ed announced, still feeling a bit hot in the face.

Without warning, Al wrestled him into a headlock. Ed cried out in protest, pushing on Al’s arm and managing to wriggle free even faster than usual. “What was that for?” he demanded.

“We have to say  _ thank you _ before we go,” Al reminded him. “Plus, the trains only run in the morning. We have to spend the night.”

Ed let out a beleaguered sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. As long as there’s no milk with dinner.”

“Are you still sure you don’t like milk?” Al asked, teasing. “Cats are supposed to love it, after all…”

“Shut up, will you!” Ed shot back, lunging for another tackle. Al laughed and dodged away, running back towards the house. 

There  _ was _ milk with dinner, but Ed refused to even touch it, just on principle. Despite Al’s goading and Granny’s nagging, Ed was going to die on his milk-hating hill. In all honesty, he didn’t want to try it in case Al was right. What if by some miracle the cat blood  _ had _ changed his sense of taste that much? He could already imagine Granny and Winry’s smug expressions. So no, he wasn’t budging on this. 

After dinner, the exhaustion of dealing with the nerve connections, his spar with Al, and getting chased by Den caught up to Ed. He passed out on the couch, and whatever he may have dreamed about, he didn’t actually remember them when he woke.

~~~ 

The train ride to Central was uneventful. Ed slept most of the journey, or otherwise listened in to the smalltalk Armstrong made with Al and other passengers without participating himself. It was strange to be reminded that ordinary people were going about their ordinary lives amidst the chaos of Ed’s own world of alchemy and criminals and objects of mythical power. How simple must one’s life be, that the most interesting conversation you can make is about the weather or what you had for lunch? 

Though the mission he was on was arguably to ‘get back to normal,’ Ed knew, deep down, that he probably wouldn’t ever be satisfied with the life of a layman. He’d been trying to uncover the secrets of alchemy since he could barely read -- it would always be a part of him. He simply couldn’t imagine a life of sitting still.

The view of the countryside flying past outside the train window eventually gave way to Central’s skyline somewhere between Ed’s bouts of unconsciousness. As soon as he caught sight of the city walls, his drowsiness vanished.  _ Finally, _ he thought, excited to get his hands on Dr. Marcoh’s research.

Their first destination was the First Branch of the Central Library. Or, it would have been, if it had still been there.

“This can’t be it,” Ed said, in denial. “Are you sure this is the right address, Major?”

“”I’m afraid so,” Armstrong confirmed regretfully. 

“But -- Dr. Marcoh’s research materials!” Ed cried out in frustration, gesturing to the burned rubble of the building. Only the foundations had survived, and Ed could tell just from the scorch marks on the remaining stone that there was no way anything made of paper had made it out of the blaze intact.

“There’s nothing left but ashes…” Al said sullenly. “I wonder what happened?”

A voice from behind called out, “Major Armstrong!”

Ed turned and saw those two military people from before, when Armstrong and Hughes had been in East City with their team to look for Scar. What were their names again? Bross? Rosh?

“Ah, Sergeant Brosh and Second Lieutenant Ross!” Armstrong greeted warmly. “What can I do for you?”

“You’ve been summoned back to Central Command, sir,” said the woman. Judging by her uniform, she must have been the Second Lieutenant. Ross, then. “We’re here to take over escorting the Elric brothers.”

“Sheesh,  _ again?” _ Ed complained, rolling his eyes to Al. “How long are we gonna be stuck with an escort for? It was bad enough having stuffy old Armstrong along, now it’s back to these guys?”

“Brother,” Al said in a warning tone. Guiltily, Ed recalled the other escorts in East City who had died trying to defend him from Scar’s attack. He hadn’t even learned their names. He didn’t want anyone else to die because of him. 

With a sigh, Ed stuck his hands in his pockets and trudged towards Ross and Brosh. Even though they were officially responsible for  _ his _ life, Ed couldn’t help but feel like he was the one responsible for  _ theirs. _ “Fine, alright,” he ceded. “Let’s go see Nina then, since the library was a bust. We’ll see you later, Major.”

“Indeed. Farewell, Elric brothers! I look forward to our next meeting,” Armstrong replied. He gave a crisp salute, which the Sergeant and Lieutenant returned instantly, Ed following suit just a beat too late. Then Armstrong turned and walked away. 

“It’s good to see you both again,” Al said to their escorts as they were led to the waiting car. “When did you return to Central?” 

“The same day Lt. Colonel Hughes did,” the man, Brosh, replied. “Though he left a little earlier so he could get the girl settled in. We had to stay and do some paperwork for Colonel Mustang.”

“Ooh, my condolences,” Ed interjected. “What a bastard, making people who aren’t even his own underlings do paperwork for him.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Brosh protested. “Uh, sir,” he tacked on hastily at the end. Ed just rolled his eyes. Military people were so tedious about formality, even in the lower ranks.

That part of the conversation seemed to end there as they all piled into the car. “So, there is some good news, regarding the first branch,” said Ross.

“And what’s that?” Ed asked drily. 

Ross frowned, but didn't comment on his tone. Instead she said, “There’s a former employee we can reach out to, to see if she knows anything about what you were hoping to find there.”

“Really? Huh.” Ed thought about it for a minute. “Let’s do that first, then. ”

“Sounds good to me,” Al agreed.

Sheska was an… interesting woman, to say the least. After digging her out of a fallen mountain of her own books, Ed had his hopes raised, then crushed, then raised again as Sheska revealed that yes, Tim Marcoh’s research had been in the First Branch, so yes, it had been burned up,  _ but _ Sheska had read it, and could therefore recreate it from memory. Ed had to admit he was impressed by such a talent -- wouldn’t it be useful to never have to reread anything? Once you have the knowledge, it stays locked in your brain until recalled with perfect accuracy? Maybe Ed would have been jealous if he wasn’t so excited. They’d get to see Marcoh’s research after all! It was certainly a step in the right direction.

Sheska said it would take some time for her to copy down everything, and that she would give them a call as soon as she was finished. Ed and Al both thanked her, and from there they went straight to the Hughes home.

Gracia opened the door to welcome them in, and the moment Ed and Al walked into the living room, Nina stopped whatever game she had been playing with Elicia and ran over to them.

“Big brothers, you’re here! You’re here!” Nina shouted, jumping up and down in excitement. She grabbed each brother by a hand and towed them into the centre of the space.

“It’s good to see you too, Nina,” Al giggled, kneeling down at Nina’s insistence.

“Hi Elicia,” Ed said, addressing the younger girl. “Remember us?”

“Yah! Little bigger brother,” Elicia said, pointing to Ed. “And bigger little brother!” she finished, pointing to Al.

Ed’s eye twitched, and under his hood, his ears flattened. “I’m not little,” he ground out between his teeth. “ _ You’re _ little, okay Elicia? Not me. You.”

Al laughed at him, and at this point Ed realized that Gracia was talking to Ross and Brosh, welcoming them in as well. 

“Tea, Edward? Alphonse?” Gracia asked, looking between the brothers. 

“No thank you,” Ed and Al chorused.

“Ed will take some milk though,” Al added smugly.

“No I will not!” Ed shot back, growling at his brother. Gracia smiled and floated back over towards the kitchen.

“Can I see brother’s ears?” Nina asked, making grabby-hands in the direction of Ed’s hood.

“Um, not right now, Nina,” Ed replied, glancing out the corner of his eye at his escorts. Though they had been in East City with them after Scar’s attack, Ed had always been wearing his hood around them so he was pretty sure they knew nothing about his body -- or even Al’s, for that matter. 

"If you're brotherses with my sister, are you my brothers too?" Elicia asked, putting her hands on Al's knee and looking up at him.

Al laughed awkwardly. "Uh, only if your dad says it's okay. We're not  _ really _ Nina's brothers, we just looked after her for a bit before she joined your family."

"Oh." Elicia looked kind of disappointed for a moment, but she quickly resumed a cheerful expression as she reached over to grab a fabric doll laying on the floor. "Play with us, please!"

It wasn’t long before Lt. Colonel Hughes came home from work, clearly surprised but hardly put-off by the group of people in his house. Ross and Brosh immediately stood and saluted when he entered, but Hughes waved them off with a laugh. “I’m off-duty right now, no need for that. Why don’t you all stay for dinner?”

They did. Gracia’s cooking was delicious, and although Ross tried to give Ed flack for wearing his hood at the table, Hughes made up an excuse for him, which Ed was secretly grateful for. Nina found herself with the conundrum of who to sit with, because she couldn’t sit beside Ed  _ and _ Al  _ and  _ Elicia. When dinner was done, Al offered to help with dishes, and Ed got dragged away by the two girls to play some more. 

When Hughes asked if they wanted to stay the night, Ed declined. He didn’t want to put them out, since they had two extra bodies with them than normal. Still, they ended up staying later than Ed had anticipated. Nina had started to yawn around 7:30, and by the time it was 8:00, Elicia could hardly keep her eyes open. Luckily Gracia came to the rescue before the girls could pass out on Ed.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Al said at the door as they were getting ready to leave.

“Thank you for playing with the girls,” Gracia replied with a smile. “Nina talks about you two all the time.” As she said it, her eyes slid over to Ed, who did his best to look nonchalant. Did that look mean Nina talked about what had happened? He had never explicitly told her it was a secret, so Ed wasn’t sure what else he expected.

Hughes stepped up to his wife’s shoulder and slipped an arm around her waist. “You boys are welcome any time. Elicia’s birthday is coming up -- we’d love to have you at the party.”

“Oh really? When’s that?” Ed asked. 

Gracia chuckled and poked Hughes in the side. “Not for another month. Maes is just very excited.”

“You know I am,” Hughes said in an overly-affectionate tone. Ed grimaced. Couldn’t he wait until they had left before giving his wife such blatant goo-goo eyes?

“Alright, well, maybe we’ll swing by tomorrow too,” Ed said, clearing his throat. “We’re waiting for some documents to be made and we don’t know when they’ll be finished, so we’ve got a few days free.” 

“That sounds lovely,” Gracia said. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Hughes pouted. “The Elrics get to spend time with my girls while I have to work? How is that fair? If you’ve got nothing to do you should come to my office, with the amount of work I’ve got I’m sure I can find a way to keep you occupied!”

Ed laughed and very deliberately stepped out of the apartment. “Noooo thanks, Lt. Colonel. Have a good night.”

Hughes smiled and nodded. “You too, Edward. Alphonse.”

With a final wave, the door shut and the brothers along with their escorts were free to find a hotel for the night.

“I didn’t know you were so close with the Lt. Colonel,” Ross said as they waited for a cab outside the apartments. There was a slight edge to her voice that Ed only just managed to catch. What was her problem with him, anyway?

Ed clasped his hands behind his head and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Yeah, so? Mustang’s my commanding officer, and those two go way back, so it’s not that weird that I know him.”

Ross seemed for a moment like she was going to say something else, but then she just shook her head and turned to face the street. Ed kept watch on her out of the corner of her eye until the cab showed up.

There was no way those two were going to stay up the whole night just to keep sentinel, but Ed didn't care about the specifics of how a watch over him was going to be maintained, so he didn’t ask. He just said goodnight to the Lieutenant and the Sergeant in the hotel lobby and made his way upstairs with Al tagging along behind. 

Just a few more days, and maybe he’d finally get some answers.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> past me: lol catboy ed  
> me now, 27k words later: and this is how these characters react and this is what those characters think and this is how ed is changed by it and thi-
> 
> I almost don't want to post this chapter because it feels irrelevant but maybe ppl will still find it interesting idk.

Maria wasn’t sure what to think about the Elric brothers. She’d heard a lot of interesting things about them, particularly about Edward’s status as the youngest ever state alchemist. Still, rumors and second-hand accounts didn’t really prepare her for the real thing. When she’d first met them in East City to escort them while Colonel Mustang sorted out some more local men for the task, she’d been kind of intimidated. Edward hadn’t even spoken to her, letting his brother introduce him while being vacant and vaguely angry-looking. And despite Alphonse’s polite and comparatively soft-spoken demeanor, he was well over six feet tall, and never took off that scary-looking armor. Meeting them again in Central didn’t clarify much.

Based on the now multiple days Maria had spent with the boys, she had come to a few conclusions. The first was that Alphonse must have gotten all the well-mannered genes their parents had to offer. It wasn’t like Edward acted like a  _ delinquent, _ he just generally didn’t seem to care what others thought of him, and so was only respectful when  _ he _ felt like it. He never brought his hood down, he yawned without covering his mouth, he hardly ever seemed interested in conversation unless it was about alchemy -- or Nina. Which brought Maria to her second conclusion. 

The boys were  _ kind people. _ They cared about the Hugheses adopted daughter with a sort of love that was ferocious in its gentleness. She remembered how, back in East City, she and Brosh had heard the little girl crying, and when Alphonse had opened the door to Brosh’s nosiness, Maria had just barely been able to make out the figure of Edward kneeling with the girl in order to hug her, before Alphonse had stepped in the way of her view. Clearly there was a story there. 

The call from Sheska came just before noon on the fifth day since they’d visited her apartment. Edward had burst out of the hotel room with an almost feral grin, startling Maria and Brosh both. Maria had just shaken her head and followed the brothers, wondering where the surprises would end with these two.

“10,000 Everyday Recipes, by Tim Marcoh,” Maria read aloud, lifting a stack of bound paper. This couldn’t be what the Elrics were looking for -- hadn’t they said it was alchemy research?

“What about this made you think it was important documents?” Brosh asked Sheska, clearly thinking the same.

Maria looked over to Edward, curious to see how he would handle this. He was standing in front of the table with one hand splayed across the tops of one of the several stacks of manuscripts. His long bangs peeked out from under the red hood, obscuring his expression.

“You’re sure that this is exactly what Tim Marcoh wrote? All of it, word-for-word?” Edward asked in a quiet, even tone.

“Yes! I’m absolutely positive!” Sheska insisted, glancing back and forth nervously between everyone in the room. “This is an exact replication of all Tim Marcoh’s writing that was in the first branch, I’m sure of it!”

Edward picked up the manuscript he was touching, and turned to face Sheska, and Maria was surprised to see him grinning again, an intense look in his eye. “You’re amazing, Sheska. Thank you. Come on, Al, let’s get all this over to the resource room at the Library’s second branch.”

“Right!” Al agreed, and the boys began gathering up as many of the manuscripts as they could carry.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” Ed said suddenly, turning on his heel to face Maria. She straightened up when his gaze met hers. “Take this and go withdraw the amount written here from my state alchemist research funds and make sure Sheska gets it. Hard work should always be compensated -- equivalent exchange and all that.” He pulled from his pocket his silver state alchemist watch, along with a folded scrap of paper, and handed them both to Maria.

“Yes, sir,” Maria replied, somewhat bewildered. She watched the Elrics and Brosh file out of the maze of books, each burdened with stacks of paper. Once she heard the apartment door open, she couldn’t hold her curiosity in anymore and she opened the folded paper Edward had given her. Her jaw immediately dropped. She felt Sheska take a step closer and heard her gasp out loud. Maria had to agree. “Did he forget a decimal somewhere??” Maria demanded, counting the zeros. This was more money than she made in  _ a year _ on her military salary. How did a kid like him wind up throwing such massive sums of cash around?!

In a way, it sort of demonstrated how much of a child Edward really was, Maria thought as she headed to the prefectural state alchemist office. She would bet her lucky socks that Edward was just eyeballing what he thought it would cost to get Sheska’s mother into a better hospital, without actually having the knowledge about hospitals to make anything close to a reasonable estimate. It was further proof to her second conclusion -- whatever hardened, young-and-powerful state alchemist persona Edward liked the world to see him as, he really did have a kind heart. 

It made Maria a little more fond of him, in the end.

~~~

After five days tailing the Elrics as they moved restlessly about town, going between their hotel, the Lt. Colonel’s home, the library, and various other spots in Central, a week of basically just sitting guard at the library was a little dull. Every day the boys locked themselves in the private resource room they’d booked and stocked full of every resource on alchemy available to the Central Library, and didn’t come out for hours on end. Often Maria or Brosh would have to bring them food, and they never left until the Library was closing for the night and the staff had to basically kick them out.

Sheska and Lt. Colonel Hughes both stopped by, and Hughes ended up dragging Sheska away to get her a job.

Any time Maria asked how it was going, Edward would launch into an explanation of how he was trying to decipher Marcoh’s code, and how clever Marcoh was, even though most of the stuff he’d decoded so far were principles of alchemy that he’d learned when he was eight. Eventually his explanation to her would devolve into mumbling to himself about elements and laws of matter, and often Alphonse would butt in to correct or expand on whatever nonsense Ed was saying to himself, and then the two of them would get into a conversation that Maria couldn’t even pretend to follow. She was glad they seemed to be having fun -- Edward was the most animated she’d ever seen him when he was talking about alchemy.

On the tenth day, Maria was about to kick Brosh awake from where he was falling asleep in his chair when she heard a shout from inside the resource room.

“TO HELL WITH IT!” cried a voice that was unmistakably Edward’s.

Brosh jerked awake, and looked at Maria. She nodded in silent agreement, and the two of them cracked open the door to the room to peek inside. The room was in complete disarray, books and papers scattered across the floor, even the chairs had been upturned. Half the papers on the floor were crumpled up, the rest looked like they had been tossed haphazardly from the table. Ed and Al were both sitting on the floor, facing away from each other, shoulders hunched in mirror depictions of defeat. 

For the first time, Maria was seeing Edward without his red jacket on. It was draped across the back of a chair, and Maria couldn’t help but stare at the young alchemist. Were those golden points on his head his  _ ears? _ Was that a  _ tail?! _

“What did you guys…” Brosh started to ask, but he trailed off, probably because he noticed Ed’s tail, the tip of which was curling and uncurling restlessly.

“This research was better off when it was destroyed,” Edward said, not acknowledging them at all. He punched the floor in front of him, and a rumbling growl that made goosebumps prickle up Maria’s arms emanated from his chest. “Marcoh was right. The philosopher’s stone  _ is _ evil.”

“So you cracked it?” Maria questioned, looking over to the younger brother, hoping for clarification.

“Yeah, we cracked it,” Alphonse confirmed, his voice heavy with something Maria couldn't identify. Regret? Grief?

“It was hopeless after all,” Ed continued to babble. “There was no way we could ever make a philosopher’s stone in the end.”

“Why not? What’s so evil about it?” Maria pressed, her frustration building. What were they  _ talking _ about? What had they read that had caused them to become so devastated?

“The main ingredient for a philosopher's stone is live humans,” Edward said, still not looking at Maria or Brosh. “The creation of even a single stone requires multiple lives.”

Maria’s blood turned cold, and she gulped, feeling her pulse raise. Live humans? As in, human sacrifice? 

Ed’s eyes widened suddenly, and the cat-like ears on the top of his head folded backwards in an unsettling way. “Get out,” he said, panicked, scrambling for his jacket. “You can’t tell anyone about this. About any of this.” He threw his jacket on and quickly pulled his hood up.

Maria stared at Edward’s back as he stood facing away from her. Different emotions churned in her gut. Disbelief, horror, pity. There was something strange about him after all, and that was why he never took his jacket off.

“Edward,” Maria said, stepping further into the room. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t,” Ed argued, both his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He did not turn around. “Please, just forget everything from the last few minutes.”

Maria exchanged a look with Brosh, and his eyes were as round as saucers. “I can’t believe the military would condone this kind of research,” he whispered.

“It’s an awful thing to hear,” Maria whispered back in agreement.

“What did I just tell you?” Ed growled, his shoulders hunching. “Forget what you heard.”

A heavy silence hung over the room for a few long seconds. Then Edward bent down and began picking the scattered papers up off the ground.

“Brother?” Alphonse questioned.

“We have to burn these notes,” Ed replied sharply. “And then I need some time to think.”

“Right,” Al agreed somberly. He stood up and began to carefully pick up and put away the library’s books while Ed continued gathering papers.

Swallowing her doubt, Maria knelt down and began to help. She wasn’t about to leave these boys to clean up this mess all on their own. Maybe she didn’t fully understand everything about the Elrics and what they were after, but she did know she didn’t like the haunted look in Ed’s eye compared to the lively energy she’d seen in him before. Picking up a few papers for him was the least she could do.

~~~

After the conversation with Major Armstrong a few days later, Maria was having trouble quelling the queasy feeling in her stomach. To think that the military would be participating in something so ghastly… The same military that she had devoted her career to, because she had wanted to make her parents and her country proud. 

“It’s been pretty quiet in there,” Maria said casually, glancing over at Brosh. “Think we should check on them?”

They were stationed outside the Elric brothers’ hotel room once again, since Scar had still yet to be apprehended. Maria glanced at the bottom of the door -- there was light spilling out, but she hadn’t heard any sort of noise coming from the room in over an hour now.

“Maybe. They haven’t had dinner yet, after all,” Brosh conceded. When he knocked on the door, however, there was no answer. Suspicious, Maria tried the knob, and it gave easily, swinging open to reveal an empty room. Cursing under her breath, Maria pointed out the rope and the open window to Brosh, who let out a frustrated noise and combed his hands through his hair.

“Ah jeez, the Major is totally gonna have our asses for this,” Brosh complained.

“Gah, you boys!” Maria exclaimed, storming out of the room. “How are we supposed to do our job if you leave us behind! Put yourselves in our shoes, would you?!” 

“L-Lieutenant Ross! Wait up!” Brosh said from behind. “You don’t really think they went to the Fifth Laboratory, do you?”

“Where else would they have gone?” Maria replied. “Hurry up, we have to go there  _ now _ .”

When they reached the fifth Lab, the gate was already slightly ajar. It looked like it was ordinarily sealed off, but someone had moved the military blockade and opened the gate. Even from outside, Maria could hear the clanging of metal and faint, indistinct voices. She drew her gun, and nodded to Brosh, who did the same. 

They carefully entered the courtyard, and Maria halted when she saw a body laying on the ground. He was wearing a military police uniform, and had a rifle at his side, but he was laying in a pool of blood and his eyes were open but unfocused, unblinking. Maria steeled her nerves and pushed forward. Just past the wall, maybe ten feet away, was Alphonse, and he was fighting another man in armor, who was wielding two large butcher knives. The stranger raised his blade to attack, and Maria aimed her gun. Two shots popped off, one from her and one from her partner. Both their aims had been true, there were two clean bullet holes in the man’s gauntlet, though to his credit he didn’t drop his knife.

“Hold it!” Maria shouted. “Don’t move an inch, or I’ll put the next one through your skull.”

“Hmm,” said the stranger, and his voice had that same strange tinny quality that Al’s had. “Well this complicates things.”

Before anyone could move or react, a low rumbling started up in the ground. Maria looked around for a source, but there was nothing obvious. That was, until several windows in the lab blew out as explosion after explosion sounded from within the building. Chunks of rock cascaded over the courtyard, scattering dust and debris everywhere.

“Sergeant, get down!” Maria shouted at Brosh. “Al, move away!”

“But Ed’s still in there!” Alphonse yelled back. “We have to get him!”

Maria’s heart sunk. Edward was a tough kid, but there was no way he could survive a building collapsing on him. “We can’t,” she shouted over the sound of crumbling stone and bending metal. She grabbed Al’s arm and tried to tow him closer to the outer wall. “It’s too dangerous!”

“Well, I think that’s my cue,” said the stranger, as he took off towards the exit. Brosh gave chase, and Maria redoubled her efforts in digging in her heels in case she had to physically restrain Al from charging into the building anyway.

Luckily, she didn’t have to. Out of the rapidly billowing cloud of dust emerged a figure, toned and lithe. Right away, Maria couldn’t tell if the figure was a woman or a man -- the long hair and midriff-baring outfit suggested woman, but the hard jawline and flat chest suggested the opposite. Hearing the figure speak didn’t help either, it was high for a man but low for a woman and sort of gravelly overall.

“Hey there, got a present for ya!” 

The stranger lowered onto one knee and deposited a bloody, unmoving Edward onto the grass. Maria pulled Ed close to her, propping him up slightly. His eyes were closed and his head lolled when she moved him, but his chest was rising and falling steadily. There was blood smeared across half his face, and there were patches of blood on his ripped up shirt as well. 

“He’s only unconscious,” assured the stranger, making Maria look up at them again. They smiled at her, but it wasn’t comforting. Something about their expression -- or maybe it was their eyes -- unsettled her. “But he’s lost a lot of blood, so you should get him to a hospital right away. And keep a closer eye on him, would you? He’s a precious resource, even if he has gone and fouled up his body like that,” they added, kicking at Ed’s limp tail.

Maria furrowed her brow. “Who are you?” she asked over the final explosions. The stranger grinned but didn’t reply.

“Lieutenant!” 

Maria turned her head as she heard Brosh’s shout. “Sergeant! Help me with him! You should get out of here too --” she turned back to the stranger, but they were no longer there. Dust stung Maria’s eyes as she tried to look around for them, but they seemed to have vanished without a trace. The vibrations in the ground seemed to be lessening, but they were still in danger. 

Maria helped get Ed’s limp form up on Brosh’s back, and the four of them started running for the exit.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ADHD Winry is so valid and I am so valid for headcanoning it. this is the longest chapter so far at just over 5k words - I hope you enjoy!

Winry was surprised to get a call from Ed. He never called, so something must be up. It was so like him; months of complete radio silence, with only the sparse bits of news that trickled down to Resembool to know how they were doing, and then one day he shows up without calling beforehand with his arm completely destroyed and a body _changed_ by alchemy, not to mention the state of Al, and then the moment they’re fixed up again they leave, and then Winry and Granny get radio silence for another solid month and a half. What was wrong with him now that he bothered to reach out so soon after his last visit?

Sure enough, Ed confessed that his arm had stopped working. Before Winry could get mad, she remembered screw A-08.

Crap.

She grabbed the first train to Central, and met the familiar face of Major Armstrong at the train station. When she heard Ed was in the hospital, panic gnawed at her insides. Ed had said his arm stopped working in the middle of a big fight. Had Winry’s carelessness really put him in the hospital? Was he going to be mad at her?

Thinking about it was one thing, but actually walking into Ed’s hospital room and seeing the bandages for herself was another. He was wearing a stupid-looking hat to cover his ears, and his hair was in a tight ponytail at the back of his neck. He had a bandage wrapped around his forehead, and another smaller plaster on one of his cheeks. He was shirtless, and there was a whole swathe of bandages wrapped around his torso and left shoulder, while his automail arm was in a sling. Winry swallowed and set down her toolbox.

“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her gaze. “I didn’t do a good enough job on your automail repair, and so you got hurt because of me.” Screw A-08 was burning a hole in the pocket of her skirt.

“What? No, no, no, Winry,” Ed stammered out. “It’s not your fault! I was being careless! Your repairs were as flawless as ever! And if anything, I would have gotten even _more_ hurt if my arm hadn’t broken when it did, so everything turned out okay!”

He… wasn’t mad at her?

_Your repairs were as flawless as ever!_

Ah. So he hadn’t noticed the missing screw. Well, despite his injuries, Ed seemed pretty lively, and if he really hadn’t noticed and everything turned out okay in the end, then there was really no need to tell him, was there? She had been so terrified that he would rebuke her, or even reject her automail completely and get someone else to do his repairs from now on. If he didn't know about her mistake though, then it would be fine! She didn't have to worry. The guilt lingered in the back of her heart, but the fear melted away, and she put on her most cheerful smile for him.

“Well, in any case, let’s get right to your repairs! I’ll be charging you the usual rush order fee, plus an extra service call charge on top of that! Okay?”

Ed puffed out his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. You want me to cover your train fare while I’m at it?” he asked sarcastically.

“Yes, actually, and --” Now that Winry had relaxed a little, and was looking around for a place to start her work, she noticed a little side table with a finished plate of food and a full bottle of milk. Her head snapped back to Ed and she frowned. “You didn’t drink your milk.”

Ed curled his lip, and Winry could see one of his cute little fangs poking out. “You know I hate it.”

Wrinry rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a child! How are you ever going to get taller if you don’t drink your milk!”

“Hey! I may not look like it, but I have grown some! Granny had to adjust my leg for my new height, remember?”

“Yeah, by five millimetres!”

The sound of the door gently but firmly shutting drew Winry’s attention away from the squabble. She could just barely make out a large silhouette moving away through the opaque glass of the door.

“Was that Al?” Ed asked.

“Maybe?” Winry replied, looking back at Ed. “Do you want me to get him?”

Ed looked conflicted for a moment, and then he sighed. “Nah, let him go. Let’s just get started on these repairs. You want me on my front or back?”

“Front,” Winry ordered. That way he wouldn’t see her pull the missing screw out of her pocket.

As Ed turned to lay down, Winry could see the golden, faintly striped fur that ran down his spine where it wasn’t covered up by bandages. She had seen it before, of course, in Resembool, but she still wasn’t sure she was used to it. It wasn’t very dense, more like fluff than anything, and even though it looked soft she knew better than to try and touch it without permission. Ed would snap at her for sure.

Once Ed had gotten himself settled and Winry had donned her apron and gloves, she took a seat on a stool one of Ed’s military visitors had gotten for her. She still wasn’t fully comfortable with soldiers, but she knew Ed had to work closely with them as a military-employed person himself, so she was resigned to it.

As she started working the casing off of his shoulder joint, her eyes trailed up to the stupid hat. It was reminiscent of a military cap, except it looked like Ed had probably transmuted it himself, since it was black leather and had little metal studs all around the front of it.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Winry asked, reaching over to tug the hat off.

“Hey,” Ed protested, craning his neck to glare but not making any move to stop her.

Winry just smiled at him and set the hat to the side. “You don’t have to cover up when it’s just us,” she said, turning her gaze back to the automail.

“Right,” Ed muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Every so often, Winry would glance up at Ed’s ears, just to see what they were doing. She was fascinated with them, with their soft fur and delicate skin, and with their incredible range of motion. Every time she did something that made a noise, such as her wrenches squeaking against metal as she worked, the ear closer to her would swivel in her direction. Ed’s expression remained bored, or perhaps contemplative, but the sight of his body reacting to her without him noticing made Winry smile against her will.

“So what’s up with Al?” Winry asked, hoping to distract Ed a little further so she could slip screw A-08 out of her pocket without him seeing.

“Dunno,” Ed sighed. “He’s been acting weird since we got to the hospital.”

“Maybe he’s worried about you?” Winry suggested, quickly twisting the screw into place. She had already reset the joint that had slipped out of place, so putting in the missing screw was all that was left.

“Mm, I don’t think that’s it. When he’s worried, he hovers. It seems more like he’s been avoiding me.”

“Maybe you should try talking to him,” Winry said, poking Ed in the side with her wrench. He twitched and shot a glare at her over his shoulder, his ears pinning back. She smiled innocently and started replacing the automail’s outer casing. “There’s one way to know for sure, and that’s to ask him. That’s all I’m saying.”

The only response Ed gave was another sigh. Winry wanted to sigh too, but instead she just shook her head. What was she going to do with these two? They didn’t talk to her, and now they wouldn’t even talk to each other? It wasn’t helpful for anybody.

Winry gave the automail a buff and shine as a finishing touch. “There you are! All done,” she proclaimed, leaning back to admire her work.

“Great, thanks.” Ed turned over and sat up, lifting his right arm and rotating the shoulder backwards and forwards to test its movement. Winry listened to the click of the metal joints and was satisfied to detect no grating or shifting where there shouldn’t be. “You’re a real lifesaver,” he said with a grin.

Winry smiled automatically, warmth at seeing Ed’s expression flooding through her. That was when the door flung open and a man with dark hair, glasses, and a short beard burst in. After making some comment about Ed seducing his mechanic (which made Winry blush indignantly but Ed won out in jumping to deny it) the man introduced himself as Maes Hughes and eagerly shook Winry’s hand. Then he said something about possibly lifting the guard on the Elrics, which caught Winry’s attention.

“Wait, why do you need a guard? What sort of trouble have you gotten yourselves into?” Winry demanded, leaning over Ed with her hands on her hips. His ears flicked back and he grimaced slightly.

Winry kept staring at him, expectant, and she watched as Ed’s face slowly shifted back into a more stoic expression. The tip of his tail twitched side to side slightly, and he deliberately looked away from her as he said, “It doesn’t matter. It’s of no concern to you.”

Winry held her breath. She wanted to shout, _of course it’s of concern to me, idiot! You cause me concern every freaking day!_ But she didn’t. She knew that it would be pointless, because Edward Elric was the stubbornest person in the world when he wanted to be, and shouting at him was like shouting at a five foot brick wall with a bad attitude. So she swallowed the pain of him shutting her out, so that it sank to the bottom of her stomach rather than resting high in her throat, and she let out her breath in a big gust.

From there, the topic was changed, and Winry had to let it go.

The moment Winry mentioned she needed a place to stay, Mr. Hughes immediately offered to bring her to his apartment. Her first reaction was hesitance, but he quickly mentioned his wife and daughters, and Ed didn’t seem to have any problems with this guy apart from surface-level annoyance, so surely there would be no harm in taking him up on his offer. Before she could give an answer either way, Mr. Hughes was picking up her toolbox and towing her out of the hospital room without waiting for her agreement.

On the way to his apartment, Winry wondered why Mr. Hughes seemed so excited. Was he always like this? It seemed exhausting, being so energetic all the time. She found her answer when they entered the apartment and found a party waiting there. Mr. Hughes must have just been excited for the party, that was all.

The moment he walked in, two little girls came running over, shouting “Papa! Papa, you’re home!”

Mr. Hughes scooped the shorter girl up in an embrace, and she giggled happily. She had scruffy blonde hair pulled into two pigtails, while the slightly taller girl had brown hair pulled back in a single braid that reminded Winry of Ed.

“Winry, I’d like you to meet my girls,” Mr. Hughes said with a grin. “Today is my precious Elicia’s birthday, isn’t that right?” he cooed, leaning in to rub noses with his daughter.

“That’s right!” Elicia giggled in response.

Mr. Hughes propped Elicia up on his hip, freeing up his other hand to rest on the brunette child’s head. “And this lovely darling is Nina, who’s been doing a great job helping set up the party like the wonderful big sister she is, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Nina agreed, smiling widely.

Winry couldn’t help but smile too; Mr. Hughes was clearly an adoring father, and though it made her chest ache a little from missing her own dad, she tried not to think about that too hard. Paying attention to how cute the little girls were would surely help keep her mind off it.

“Come in! Are you papa’s friend?” asked Nina, reaching out to grab Winry’s hand and pull her inside.

“Um, sort of?” Winry replied as she let Nina lead her to the dining room. It seemed like food was just being set out in big plates for anyone to take whatever they liked. She glanced behind her at Mr. Hughes, and saw him meet her gaze evenly, but he didn’t give her any indication of what she should say. He just seemed to be watching.

“Do you know my brothers Ed and Al?” Nina asked, still clinging to Winry’s hand. “They’re friends with papa too!”

Winry blinked, taken aback. “Ed and Al?” she repeated in surprise. “Yeah, they’re like brothers to me, too…”

“The Elrics helped Nina get out of a tough situation,” explained Mr. Hughes, coming up behind her. “She really looks up to them.”

For a second, Winry wondered what he meant by ‘tough situation.’ Then she remembered what Ed had said back in Resembool when he was explaining how he got his new body: _“I got caught in a transmutation circle that would have ruined a little girl’s life, so it ruined mine instead.”_

Winry looked back down at Nina, at her round face and well-kept hair. She had such a cheerful air to her -- was Mr. Hughes’ daughter really who Ed had saved when his body had been altered? Who on earth would try to hurt such an innocent young girl? Mr. Hughes seemed like such a devoted parent, too -- how did Nina get in danger in the first place?

Winry didn’t voice such questions aloud, for she didn’t want to be rude to her host. She simply said, “I see,” and proceeded to watch Mrs. Hughes bring a cake out and set it on the dining table.

Birthday wishes were given to little Elicia, candles were blown out, and then it was time to eat. Winry made polite conversation with the other party-goers when they initiated, but they all seemed to be parents of the other children attending or neighbours of the Hugheses. Winry felt a little awkward and out of place -- she didn’t know these people, and while many were curious when she mentioned that she was an automail engineer, clearly none of them knew enough about the practice to hold a conversation about it beyond “aren’t you a bit young to be an engineer?”

After dinner, Winry and Mr. Hughes talked about the Elric brothers, Elicia sitting on Winry’s lap and Nina sitting on her father’s. Winry explained about how she’d grown up with them, how they were her two best friends in the world, but still she sometimes felt like she hardly knew them at all for all the secrets they kept from her.

“Sometimes secrets are a way for people to protect the ones they love from getting hurt,” Mr. Hughes said. He didn’t quite meet Winry’s eye as he said it; she suspected he might be speaking from experience. “I haven’t known those boys nearly as long as you have, but even I can see that they don’t like to be a burden on others. If there’s something they’re not saying, it’s because they don’t want you to worry.”

“But I _do_ worry,” Winry protested. “When they won’t tell me what they’re researching or how they got hurt, that _makes_ me worry!”

Mr. Hughes chuckled and bounced Nina on his knees a little, making her giggle. “Yeah, that can be a drawback. Still, guys like them like to let their actions speak louder than their words. Pay attention to what they do, not what they say, and maybe you’ll understand a bit more.”

“Maybe,” Winry sighed, looking down at where Elicia was poking and prodding at the callouses on her hands. “But is that really enough? Am I just supposed to be okay with being left behind all the time?”

“You’re still thinking about this the wrong way,” Mr. Hughes said with a smile. “Those boys depend on you. You’re their safety net; they don’t leave you behind out of malice, they do it so that you can catch them when they fall.”

“That shouldn’t be their call to make!” Winry shot back angrily. “Maybe _I_ want to choose what I am to them!” She felt her lungs squeeze painfully as she took her next breath in. There were times when she felt so unbearably hurt by Ed and Al leaving her out of things, but at the same time, she felt something else at the idea that the brothers trusted her enough to be their safety net, if what Mr. Hughes said was true.

Mr. Hughes raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. Winry felt her cheeks get warm.

“I -- I mean…” she stuttered. “I understand what you mean, sir, but I still wish they would talk to me.”

In the end, she knew that no matter what Ed and Al did or did not tell her, she would still be there for them when they called. She didn’t like to admit it, because it made her feel a bit pathetic on the inside, but because they were so distant, anytime they returned to her it just made her glow with happiness. Of course she would never turn them away, no matter how mad at them she was for whatever reason. Even though they shut her out constantly, she couldn’t bring herself to shut them out in return. She couldn’t do that to them when they had already lost so much; she never wanted to become a regret to them.

Something about her expression must have given her away, because when she looked up at Mr. Hughes again, he was smiling at her, partly wistful, partly knowing. “Ah, youth,” he said, simply.

“Are you sad, Winry?” Elicia asked, looking up at her.

“No!” Winry quickly denied. “No of course not, Elicia, how could I be sad on your birthday?”

“Is it time to play now?” Nina asked, looking up at Mr. Hughes.

“Yes, I do believe it is!” he cried out, returning to that exuberant energy he had displayed before. “Go forth and run amok, you silly little geese!” He lifted Nina down off his lap, and Winry did the same for Elicia. The two girls ran off towards the living room where the other children were, giggling the whole way.

~~~

Once the rest of the guests had left, Mrs. Hughes showed Winry to the spare room where she’d be staying. It was small, but the sheets were clean and there was a framed family picture resting on the windowsill. Winry thanked Mrs. Hughes for what felt like the fifth or sixth time for her generosity.

“Please, you’re more than welcome,” Mrs. Hughes replied. “I like to think of our home as a little safe haven for anyone who needs it. It’s why we keep a spare room in the first place.”

“You’re very kind, ma’am,” Winry said as she set her luggage on the floor by the bed.

Mrs. Hughes walked over to the window to lower the blinds, and she smiled at the photograph resting there. “Maes insists on having one in every room of the house,” she explained with a touch of amusement to her voice.

Winry wandered closer to look at the picture. In it, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes were sitting on the couch in their living room, while Nina and Elicia stood in front of them, holding hands. It looked recent, with Nina and Elicia looking about the same as they did now, though they were both wearing nice dresses, and their parents seemed a little dressed up as well -- Mrs. Hughes had a lovely lipstick colour and Mr. Hughes had on a very sharp-looking blazer. “When was this taken?” Winry asked politely.

“Oh, let’s see,” Mrs. Hughes pondered, placing a finger to her chin. “It was about a week after Maes and Nina came home from East City, so that would be a couple months ago, now. We had just gotten Nina some new clothes, and of course Maes wanted a picture of the four of us right away,” she recalled fondly.

Winry cocked her head. Wasn’t East City where Ed and Al operated out of? That was where Ed’s commanding officer -- that Colonel guy -- worked, at least. Is that where the brothers had met Nina, if Winry was correct in guessing she was the little girl they had saved?

“Why didn’t you and Elicia go to East City with them, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Mrs. Hughes looked at Winry for a moment, a question in her eyes. “You’re friends with the Elric boys, aren’t you?”

Winry blinked at the sudden topic change. “Um, yes?”

Mrs. Hughes laughed softly, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I just assumed someone would have told you, by now.” She gave Winry a sympathetic look. “Nina is adopted. She was living with her biological father in East City, but she came to live with us when he was arrested. The Elrics looked after her for a little while before Maes brought her here to Central; that’s why she calls them her brothers. They never told you about what happened?”

Winry shook her head. She could feel that heavy weight in her stomach again, the one she felt every time Ed and Al left her out of things, left her behind.

“Things do make a little more sense, knowing that she’s adopted,” Winry said, trying to push down that feeling. “See, the boys told me they’d helped a little girl, but they didn’t say much more than that. I suspected maybe it was Nina when she referred to them as her brothers, but I wondered what she would have needed saving from -- Mr. Hughes doesn’t seem like the type who would ever let her be in danger, but if he became her dad _after,_ then that totally makes sense.”

Mrs. Hughes chuckled. “Yes, he is very protective. He gets involved with everything, I swear. I think it pleases him to be someone who provides for others,” she said, touching the photograph of her family with a fond expression. “Oh, but you don’t want to listen to me gush about my husband. Is there anything else you need, dear?”

Winry assured her she was fine, and Mrs. Hughes left her to get ready for sleep.

In general, Winry didn’t like going to bed. Back in Resembool, she’d often putter around in her workshop or stay awake reading until the wee hours, and would only crawl under the sheets once she could hardly keep her eyes open. In this unfamiliar room in the Hughes home, however, there was really nothing Winry could do but stare up at the dark ceiling and let her thoughts spiral while she waited for sleep to take her.

She thought about Nina, and the way that Mr. Hughes talked to her, about her, around her. He’d given no indication whatsoever that she was anything other than _his_ daughter. It was kind of impressive, actually. She wondered about Nina’s biological father, about why he was arrested, although she felt reasonably sure it had something to do with why Ed had fur and a tail. She thought about Ed’s tail, the way it moved, curling and swishing. She thought about what it might be like to twirl it around her hand like she sometimes did with Den’s tail. Would it be flexible? Would it be soft, like his ears had been when he had reluctantly pushed his head into her hand so she could feel them?

That particular memory made Winry pull the sheets up over her head as she fought a smile from appearing on her face, even though there was no one around to see it.

There was something fascinating about Ed’s cat parts; Winry couldn’t help thinking about them. She knew that it was supposed to be a bad thing, and it _was_ weird, but it also suited him, in a strange way. There was something almost alluring about it… _animal magnetism._ The phrase popped into Winry’s head completely unbidden, and she snorted at the thought. She should remember that, maybe tease Ed about it later… With anyone else she would worry about accidentally making them feel bad, but Ed had demonstrated over and over throughout the years that the only kind of comments that actually got to him were ones about his height.

From there her mind wandered to Ed’s automail, and then automail as a whole, and how she couldn’t wait to get back to her workshop, and then her drifting thoughts were interrupted by a muffled thump, and the unmistakable wail of a child.

Winry yanked the covers off of her face and sat up, peering through the darkness towards the door. She knew that Elicia and Nina’s room was across the hall, and she could hear them both crying at this point. Rapid footsteps creaked down the floorboards outside, and Winry heard the opening of a door and indistinct, drifting voices. She knew she shouldn't be nosy, that she should let Mr. and Mrs. Hughes handle it, but she couldn't help being worried. She wanted to know what happened, and to help, if she could.

Quietly, Winry slipped out of bed and padded to the door. Opening it just a fraction and peering out, she saw a touching family scene. In the room across the hall, Mrs. Hughes sat on Elicia's bed, holding the younger girl and stroking her hair. Elicia looked tired, and her eyes were wet, but it was Nina who was really crying. She was bundled up against Mr. Hughes' nightshirt where he knelt on the floor, and she was openly sobbing while her adopted father rubbed her back and shushed her softly.

"Shh, shh, it was only a dream, Nina. You're alright," Mr. Hughes said gently.

"Wh-why, papa?" Nina sobbed. "Why d-did daddy d-do it? Why d-did he h-hurt big brother Ed?"

Winry felt her heart stop, just for a second.

"Shh," Mr. Hughes shushed her again, tucking the top of her head under his chin. "I don't know, sweetie. Sometimes you find answers and sometimes you don't... It can be hard to understand why people do bad things... What's important is that you're safe, okay? You're safe, and Edward's safe, and it's all going to be alright."

Nina’s cries quieted down, though she continued to whimper into Mr. Hughes’ shoulder. It seemed like they had the situation under control, so Winry started to carefully close her door again, but froze when Mrs. Hughes caught her eye. Winry felt guilt twist her guts at being caught watching, but Mrs. Hughes didn’t seem particularly angry. She just smiled at Winry, and then leaned down to kiss the top of Elicia’s head.

With a small ache in her chest, Winry finished shutting the door as softly as she could and leaned her forehead against it. She could already feel the tears welling up, no matter how much she desperately didn’t want to cry. Why did she always have to cry? She didn’t even know what was causing her to cry, in this instance. Was it sympathy for Nina, who had clearly been traumatized by whatever had happened to make Ed the way he was? Or was it the way Mrs. Hughes had smiled at her, full of understanding and lacking in any sort of judgement for intruding?

It probably had something to do with how much she missed her parents. Even to this day, there was a void in her that their love used to fill, and though the ache was dull now, after so many years, in moments like these that ache grew sharp and hard to ignore. Winry would always mourn the moments with them that she would never get to have. Moments like the one she had just witnessed, a moment too intimate for an outsider like her to participate in. So often she had cried, and wished that her dad could hold her the way Mr. Hughes was holding Nina, or that her mother could kiss her, the way Mrs. Hughes had kissed Elicia.

A choked up sob managed to wrest its way from Winry’s lungs as the emotions flooded her, as overwhelming as they always were. She felt the tears drip off her face and she backed away from the door, wiping her eyes as she did. She took a few deep, shuddery breaths as she tried to stifle the emotions, but she couldn’t bite down hard enough and another half-suppressed sob wracked through her.

She curled up on the bed, hoping at least that the pillows would muffle this embarrassment.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but once Winry had calmed down enough that the tears were no longer falling, there was a gentle knock at her door.

“Winry?” whispered the voice of Mrs. Hughes, barely audible.

Winry swallowed, but she didn’t think she had enough of a voice to answer. Maybe if she didn’t reply, Mrs. Hughes would think she was asleep and leave her alone?

Instead, the door slowly opened, and Winry looked up to see Mr. Hughes standing there as well, behind his wife. Winry put her face back in the pillow, ashamed that they might have heard her crying.

“Can we come in?” asked Mrs. Hughes.

“I guess,” Winry said, muffled. She sat up on the bed, still hugging the pillow to her chest, and stared down at the floor as the Hughes couple came and sat on each side of her. “I’m sorry,” Winry mumbled.

She felt a hand stroke the back of her loose hair, and she glanced at Mrs. Hughes. Her throat was already clogging up again.

“For what?” Mr. Hughes asked gently, making her turn her head again to look at him. His eyes were full of understanding, and Winry couldn’t handle that. She couldn’t handle that his question had sounded rhetorical, implying that she had nothing to be sorry for at all.

Why _was_ she sorry? For intruding on their family? For getting upset over nothing? For failing Ed and Al? For failing _herself?_ She was too overwhelmed by the magnitude of her emotions to pinpoint which reason. Maybe it was all of it. Maybe it was something else entirely.

Tears welled up in Winry’s eyes once again. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

She abandoned the pillow she was hugging and leaned in towards Mrs. Hughes as she cried, and Mrs. Hughes embraced her easily. Beyond the arms wrapped snugly around her shoulders, Winry could feel a warm, broad hand slowly rubbing her back, just like Granny did when she cried.

  
_Is this what it’s like to have parents?_ Winry wondered between muffled sobs.

~~~

The next morning, Elicia and Nina both called Winry their older sister at breakfast, and Winry couldn’t keep herself from smiling. She might have grown up with the Elrics, but she’d always wondered what it’d be like to have a sister.

Now, it seemed, she had two.


	12. Chapter 12

After all the craziness in Central, Ed was more than happy to be on the move again. He was glad to have made up with Al; they got into arguments all the time, but Ed hated it when they fought for real. He’d been so scared, for so long, of what Al thought of him after what they’d done. The ‘am I really your brother or did you just create me’ accusation had really stung -- because Ed  _ did _ consider himself responsible for Al’s existence, and not in a good way. He knew how much being in the armor sucked for Al, and that guilt would always drive him forward, right up until the moment Al was back in his normal body. 

In the fallout of the fifth lab’s collapse, Ed left the information he'd uncovered about the government’s involvement in the creation of philosopher’s stones and the strange people with the ouroboros tattoos with Major Armstrong and Lt. Colonel Hughes. After what the Fuhrer had said in his hospital room, he had no choice but to take Lieutenant Ross' advice and leave it to the adults.

Yeah, as if.

Ed remembered the way his hair had prickled when the Fuhrer had come into the room. Something about his presence (was it his smell? The way he moved?) had put the cat part of Ed’s brain on edge.

_ Danger… Danger… _ his instincts had seemed to growl. 

It sort of made sense: Ed had seen firsthand at his state alchemist assessment that the Fuhrer’s age belied a speed and strength that served as a reminder that he wasn’t ruler of the country for no reason. Still, that prickling feeling made Ed wary -- he wanted to continue to investigate this issue on his own, if he could get away with it.

"Why are you going to visit your old teacher after all this time?" asked Winry, pulling Ed out of his thoughts. She sat across from him on the train, while Al sat beside him.

"We've seen some pretty sore defeats lately," Ed admitted. "We need to get better if we're going to get anywhere." He avoided mentioning that he also planned to ask Teacher what she knew about the philosopher’s stone.

"Or you could just get into less fights," Winry muttered, glaring at Ed.

"It's not just fighting we want to get better at," Al interjected before Ed could argue. "We want to ask her advice, and strengthen ourselves overall."

"You haven't seen her in four years, right?" Winry asked. "I guess she wouldn't know about everything that's happened, would she..."

Ed grimaced. Yeah, that was the thing, wasn't it. Teacher didn't know about their failed human transmutation, or that Ed had become a state alchemist, or...

"Are you going to tell her about…?" Winry said, tapping her own head in the spot where Ed's ears were on his.

Ed self-consciously tugged his hat a little lower. It was really uncomfortable to wear all the time, more so than the hood was, but it was also more secure and it didn't trap his braid. Plus it looked cooler. "Not if I can help it,” he grumbled in reply. “Explaining Al's armor is already going to be tough enough. She would totally kill us if she knew the whole truth."

“Oh man, you’re right, I hadn’t even thought about that,” Al said, and the armor rattled as he shivered. “Brother, maybe we shouldn’t go after all. I don’t want to die before I’ve had my first kiss!”

Ed snorted at him.  _ “That’s _ what you’re concerned about? Jeez.”

“Is your teacher really that scary?” Winry asked, looking back and forth between the brothers.

“Terrifying,” Ed muttered, remembering the long-instilled fear of Teacher’s fists. 

“She’s a harsh teacher, but she’s not a bad person,” Al said, trying to reassure Winry. “She always looked after us, and that one time Ed nearly broke his ankle sparring, she was really kind to him while he was in pain.”

“Oh yeah. I’d nearly forgotten about that,” Ed mused, recalling the memory. He’d landed wrong when Teacher threw him, and she had immediately dropped to her knees to examine the injury. He remembered being weirded out by her sudden change in demeanor, the way she’d gone from steely and cold to gentle and warm. 

“You cried like a baby,” Al said smugly. 

Ed shoved his big metal shoulder and glared. “One or two tears is not crying like a baby! I was nine, okay? Quit spreading lies about me.”

From there the conversation devolved into recalling other stories from their training, with Wrinry asking questions and laughing at them and sharing her own memories from their childhood. Ed had almost forgotten how nice it was to talk to Winry about trivial things. He would never admit that he  _ missed _ her, of course, because he wasn’t the sentimental type, and he had other things to worry about. Still, it was nice to see her smiling and laughing. 

Stopping in Rush Valley turned out to be an exercise in not letting Winry out of his sight.

She ran from window to window of all the shopfronts, gushing about automail. Ed had to roll his eyes. “I’m not buying you anything,” he warned. “So don’t go starting any tabs.”

Winry turned to pout at him, and clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Please, Ed? If I have the latest tools, then I can give you the best automail!”

“I think your automail is great as it is,” Ed huffed. He said  _ your _ instead of  _ my  _ because in his mind, it really was  _ Winry’s _ automail on a very base level. It might be connected to his nerves, but she was the one who had poured her passion and effort into making it. “Now, is there a place to get food around here or is it all just freaking automail?”

~~~

Back in Eastern Command, Roy sighed and sat back in his chair, setting his pen down to stretch his aching wrist. Paperwork, paperwork. It was all he ever did these days, it seemed, since Scar hadn't been sighted in close to two weeks and he had exhausted all his leads. Meanwhile Fullmetal was out gallivanting, doing who knows what. Roy figured he should try to wrestle up a case for the kid soon. 

The phone on his desk rang, and he picked it up, grateful for the distraction. 

“Colonel Mustang,” he stated into the receiver.

_ “We have a call for you from an outside line in Central, sir. She says she’s Lt. Colonel Hughes’ wife?” _

Now that was strange. What would Gracia need from him in the middle of the day, when she knew he would be at work? The only time he ever heard from her was to plan Maes’ birthday every year, but that was months away. “Put her through,” he ordered, perplexed.

The line crackled for a moment, and then Roy heard a click as it connected.

_ “Hello? Roy?”  _ came Gracia’s voice in a hushed tone.

“Hi Gracia,” Roy said, leaning back in his chair again. “What’s the occasion?”

From the other end of the line came a noise like a sniffle.  _ “I’m sorry,” _ said Gracia, and her voice cracked in the middle. Roy felt his heart sink, and then it started to race as he heard Gracia let out a sob.  _ “I’m sorry, I d-didn’t know who else to call…” _

“Gracia, what’s happened?” Roy demanded, standing up in his urgency. “Are the girls okay? Where’s Maes?”

_ “He’s… h-he’s… Oh God, I can’t say it, please don’t make me say it...” _

More sobbing came through, and Roy’s fingers clenched tightly around the receiver. “He’s not dead,” Roy said numbly. Gracia’s crying grew louder. Icy dread crept through his veins, and his heart kept pounding harder, louder, blood rushing in his ears.

_ “Roy… I’m sorry...” _ Gracia managed to say between her sobs. 

“I’m coming to Central right now,” Roy said, his voice still numb of any emotion. “Sit tight. I’ll be there soon.”

Without waiting for a response, Roy hung up.

~~~

Satella’s baby was the tiniest, softest thing that Ed had ever seen.

Stepping into the room was strange at first, because the smells were overwhelming to Ed’s sensitive nose. It was pungently  _ human; _ sweat and blood and other things that Ed didn’t want to think about. Still, his hesitance melted away when he saw the new mother holding her tiny creation close to her chest.

“Awesome,” he said, unable to contain his excitement. “Awesome,  _ awesome!  _ This is so awesome!”

“That’s all you can say?” Winry asked from the floor, her breathing still heavy and her apron stained. “We just witnessed the miracle of childbirth and all you can say is ‘awesome’?”

“Well, it is,” Ed said defensively. “Alchemists have been trying to create human life for centuries, but no one’s come anywhere close. Yet, the human body is capable of doing it on its own? The only word for it is  _ awesome _ .”

“You always have to make it about alchemy, don't you?" Winry sighed.

"I can't help it, It's who I am," Ed replied with a shrug.

He took a tiny step closer, trying to peer at the baby without crowding Satella. 

He was so, so small, Ed almost couldn’t believe it. Small and round with wispy black hair that clung to his damp forehead. It was new life, young and vulnerable. Without his parents, this baby would die pretty quickly. Ed tried to imagine being so small and helpless, and felt a spike of discomfort. He’d had to become independent so quickly after his Mom had died, it was difficult for him to conceptualize. 

Still, he thought about Al, and Winry, and babies, and crying, and wondered if maybe human beings were born to be taken care of by others. 

~~~

When Roy got to Central, he asked to see the body right away. He was told he couldn’t, that it was being prepared for burial, but Roy managed to pull a few strings with the help of Dr. Knox. He needed to see for himself that his best friend was gone.

Knox led him into the coroner’s office, and before him was a metal table carrying a sheet-covered corpse. Roy had seen plenty of those before. He swallowed hard, steeling himself, and pulled back the sheet.

Roy was not squeamish. Any part of him that resembled squeamishness had died years ago when he began to carry out state-sanctioned murder. Still, the sight was not pleasant, and the idea of that sticky mess of old blood and crushed bone being  _ Maes _ was really what turned his stomach. The face did not look like Maes, if only because it didn’t look like much of anything anymore. The skull was completely caved in; the nose was disfigured, the cheek and brow bones shattered. The dark hair was the same style and texture as Maes’, but the jaw looked wrong to Roy. 

He pulled the sheet back a little further -- the body was still in uniform. There was a dark stain above the left breast: a bullet wound.

_ If he was shot through the heart, why did the killer destroy the head like that?  _ He wondered. Gears were turning in his mind. Something about this was fishy. 

“The face is unrecognizable. How did you identify the body?” Roy asked Knox.

“Fingerprints,” Knox replied. He grabbed a file off a little desk in the corner and opened it for Roy to see. “These are what we got off the body, and this is from Hughes’ records.” He pointed out the different pages for Roy to examine. They did appear to match, but…

“What about dental?” Roy asked.

“The stiff is missing a few, but what’s left matches,” Knox confirms. He shuffled through the file, pulling out two other pages. Roy looked at them carefully, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he picked up on something.

“Hughes didn’t have a filling...” Mustang murmured, tracing the shape of the mercury in the image. He felt his pulse raise triumphantly. Something  _ was _ wrong here, he wasn’t just imagining it.

“What’s that?” Knox asked.

“Hughes didn’t have a filling. I’m sure of it,” Roy said, because he trusted Knox. “He boasted about never having had dental work done.”

“Did he, now,” drawled Knox, clearly not convinced. “Listen Mustang, I know he was your friend, but don’t you think it’s possible he could have gotten a filling without telling you about it? You’re not his mother.”

Roy’s heart contracted painfully. He knew it sounded crazy, but Roy  _ knew _ Hughes. He  _ didn’t have _ a filling. That was the sort of thing you knew about the people you cared about -- the kind of operations they’d had done on their bodies. Roy knew the story behind every scar and scrape Hughes had, and Hughes had known the stories behind Roy’s. The image that Roy had of Hughes in his mind didn’t have  _ room _ for a filling. He had always had perfect teeth -- that was why Roy could never look away when he smiled, right?

Right?

Roy snapped the folder shut and handed it back to Knox. He turned back to the corpse and crouched to be eye-level with the left hand, palm-down on the metal table. Roy heard Knox sigh behind him, but he ignored the man, instead reaching up to twist the familiar wedding band a little ways down. There was no tan line or anything -- although, granted, Roy had never seen Hughes take his ring off since he got married, so it’s possible that this was still Hughes. One more way to check.

Roy stood and moved to the other side, pushing up the sleeve of the body’s right arm. Roy was glad to be wearing his gloves, so he didn’t have to feel the chill of death in the corpse’s bloodless skin. Though the arm and the rest of the body matched Roy’s memory of Hughes’ general proportions, Hughes had a scar on his right forearm that he’d gotten while training with his knives. It was small and easy to miss, but Roy had seen it plenty of times, had memorized its position on Hughes’ arm; where it should have been there was just smooth, pale skin.

Feeling Knox’s gaze on him all the while, Roy yanked the sleeve back down and re-covered the corpse with the sheet.

“I would appreciate it if you would refrain from mentioning this visit to anyone,” Roy said as he walked briskly towards the door.

“Sure thing, kid. And hey,” Knox added, causing Roy to pause, glancing over his shoulder at him. “I’m sorry for your loss,” the coroner said gruffly.

A grim smile found its way to Roy’s face. “No need,” he replied. With that, he opened the door and sauntered out of the office, vindication flowing through his veins.

Whoever that was in there, it  _ wasn’t _ Maes.

Which meant that Maes Hughes was still alive. It also meant someone with enough authority to falsify military records didn’t want anyone to  _ know _ he was alive.

Hope pulsed through Roy, driving his feet forward in a determined pace. Maes Hughes was still alive, he  _ knew it. _

And Roy was going to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now available on streaming platforms everywhere: CSI Mustang


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (originally published this chapter 03/19/2020 but edited on 03/21/2020... nothing major just added a few lines and tweaked some others for flow)

The funeral was painful.

Roy went through all the necessary motions of shaving his face, donning his dress uniform, and slicking back his hair all while his mind raced with possibilities. He wanted to start gathering information right away -- he was frustrated that he had to attend a useless funeral for a man who wasn’t actually in the casket when his time could be better spent actually looking for Hughes, but appearances needed to be kept. Roy’s friendship with him was no secret; it would be suspicious for him to not be there.

Roy stood at attention with the other officers as the casket was buried. In his periphery he could see Gracia and the two girls, and his heart ached for them. Elicia and Nina were each holding one of Gracia’s hands, which left her with nothing to hide her trembling lip.

“Mama, why are they burying papa?” said Elicia’s small voice. “I don’t want them to. Please tell them to stop!”

“Never coming back,” whispered Nina. “Means never ever coming back.”

Roy took a steady breath in through his nose and tried to focus on the horizon rather than the sniffling and weeping around him. Even the fuhrer’s hands shook where they rested on the pommel of his sword as he stood at the head of the officers, head bowed. Their grief was powerful, and Roy almost let himself fall into it.

 _No,_ he thought forcefully to himself. _He isn’t really gone._

Once the words of remembrance had been spoken and the people began to mill about, shaking hands and offering condolences, Roy waited on the fringes. Many people came to give their grief to him personally, but he forced himself not to hear their words.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” “He was a great man.” “I know you two were close.”

‘Close’ didn’t begin to describe it. Not from Roy’s perspective. Not having Hughes felt like he was missing an organ -- a vital piece of himself that he often took for granted. Hughes and Hawkeye had always been his strongest pillars, and with one of them missing (not _gone,_ just _missing,_ he forced himself to think) he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Still, Roy waited, until it looked like Elicia was starting to become unmanageable in her wailing, and Gracia had to excuse herself from all the people trying to give her their thoughts and prayers. Roy caught up to her, pulling off his cap as he approached.

“Gracia,” he greeted. She looked at him, and even through her red, tear-swollen eyes, she managed to smile at him. “Let me walk you to a cab,” he offered.

“Thank you,” Gracia said, hushed. Elicia continued to cry into her neck.

Nina stared hard at Roy, and he blinked down at her, surprised. “You aren’t going to be my dad now, are you?” she asked. Her hair was a mimicry of Fullmetal’s, a loose braid at the back of her head.

The question was startling enough to pull a smile out of Roy even despite the somber atmosphere. “No. Where did you get that idea?”

Nina shrugged and looked down, clinging a little tighter to Gracia’s hand. “That’s good. I don’t want you to die too, Mr. Colonel.”

Roy swallowed and looked at Gracia, who had fresh tears welling up in her eyes. Nina had lost two fathers now, in less than a year. Roy supposed that in a child’s mind, it made sense to connect the events. Still, he had no idea how to respond.

Unsure what to do, Roy stood by awkwardly as Gracia got the girls settled in the cab. When she turned to him, her eyes lowered, he shifted his weight and leaned forward slightly.

“I don’t want to give you false hope,” he murmured, glancing about to make sure no one else was around. “But I want you to know that his death is not what it seems.”

Gracia’s breath hitched, and her gaze flicked up to Roy’s face. “What are you saying, Roy?” she whispered.

Roy pressed his lips together and pulled his cap out from under his arm to settle it over his hair. “I’m looking into it. I will get you answers, I promise.”

It came as a surprise to Roy when Gracia surged forward and hugged him tightly. His spine stiffened automatically, and he awkwardly placed his hands on her back, above the shoulder blades. For a brief moment he worried that someone would see, about the rumors this could cause, but he forced that part of his brain into silence. There was nothing wrong with comforting the mourning wife of his best friend.

“Thank you, for everything,” she mumbled into his lapel, her voice overwhelmingly sad. “I know how much you loved him.”

The word ‘loved’ lanced through Roy’s chest, causing his throat to close off. He shut his eyes tightly against the pain of it. In any other moment, on any other day, he would have asked her what she meant. He would have sat and dissected everything he’d ever said, every little motion and glance that might have given him away, but he couldn’t. Not when they were standing two hundred feet from his grave. (Even though it wasn’t him buried there, Roy reminded himself.)

After a few moments of squeezing, Gracia let go and stepped back, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbing at her eyes. “Sorry for that,” she said with a sniff.

Roy shook his head at her. He didn’t want her apology; he couldn’t blame her for her tears. If he didn’t have his suspicions, if he hadn’t seen the discrepancies on the body, he knew he would be in a much sorrier state himself.

“We better not keep in touch directly,” he said, managing to keep his voice from wavering. “We wouldn’t want people to talk. But when I find something, I will get word to you.”

“I understand,” Gracia replied. Roy could see her physically gathering her strength, and found himself -- not for the first time -- impressed by Gracia Hughes. “If you’ll excuse me, Colonel.”

Roy gave her a salute as she got into the cab, and he caught Nina staring at him through the window. It made him wonder what she thought of him, the man she only ever seemed to see when something terrible was happening around her.

The cab drove off, and Roy turned to see Hawkeye standing a little ways away, watching him with his black overcoat draped neatly over her arm. Though his heart ached, he was filled with a burning determination. He strode towards the Lieutenant, and knew he would follow this path, even if it was a foolish one. It was the only course of action his heart would allow.

~~~

Winry’s decision to stay in Rush Valley didn’t surprise Al in the slightest. She seemed pretty happy there, enamored with the vibrant automail culture (and with Paninya, in Al’s humble opinion) as she was.

Her decision, though, meant that Ed and Al would have to face the wrath of Teacher alone. Al couldn’t help but think maybe Teacher wouldn’t lay them out completely if they had with them their childhood friend, but he also knew it was cowardly to want to hide behind Winry. There was nothing for it -- they would just have to accept whatever Teacher was going to do.

Al’s attention was drawn from his thoughts and the passing scenery outside the train window when Ed grunted in his sleep. Al watched him for a moment, noticing the tenseness in his shoulders as he rested his head against the side of the seat. After a moment, Ed’s eyes fluttered open, and he had a disconcerted look on his face.

“We’re almost to the Dublith station, brother,” Al said. “Were you dreaming?” Al missed being able to dream, so he liked to ask Ed about his when they weren’t too upsetting for Ed to talk about.

“Yeah,” Ed replied, adjusting his hat and frowning towards the interior of the train car. “About _him.”_

At first Al worried that Ed meant Mr. Tucker, since he’d had nightmares about that night a few times already, but judging by Ed’s expression, that wasn’t it. Al was pretty well-versed in the flavours of anger that Ed was capable of, and this was a familiar, older resentment. A dream about their father, then.

Al decided not to say anything, instead looking back out the window as the buildings of the city began to fly past. Their father was a touchy subject for Ed, and anytime he came up, they’d argue about it. Al didn’t know why Ed hated him so much, but maybe that was just because Al didn’t remember him very well. Still, he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt -- he must have had a good reason for leaving, surely. Whenever he'd asked Mom about Dad she had always replied with _"ask him yourself when he comes home!"_

She wouldn’t have said things like that if she believed he was gone for good, right?

The whistle of the train signalled their arrival at the station. From there it was a familiar walk to reach the Curtis butcher shop, and the brothers hesitated at the door. Ed was fidgeting with his hat and the back of his trousers, clearly trying to make sure he was covered up enough. Al could only stand and wait, hoping that Teacher wouldn’t insist he “take off” his armor.

Before they could even gather the courage to go in, the door to the butchery opened and out stepped Teacher’s husband. He was a big man, but Al found that he was a little less intimidated by him now that they were the same height.

“Hi, Sig,” Ed said, shrinking on himself just a little.

“Edward,” Sig greeted, reaching out to rub the top of Ed’s head. Ed had to grab and hold onto his hat to prevent it from dislodging. “You’ve gotten bigger,” Sig remarked.

“Um,” said Al. “You probably don’t recognize me, but it’s me, Alphonse.”

Sig paused, meeting Al’s gaze evenly. For a moment Al was nervous, but then Sig reached up and gave his helmet the same treatment as Ed’s hat. “You’ve gotten bigger, too,” Sig said in the same exact tone.

Al couldn’t help but feel happy. People always made assumptions about him based on his appearance; it was nice to finally be treated like a kid for once. He felt like maybe Sig didn’t see him as the tall, intimidating man most people saw, and instead he saw _Alphonse,_ the fourteen year old boy.

“I take it you’re here to see Izumi?” Sig asked when he lifted his hand away.

"Yeah…" Ed agreed, rubbing his arm nervously.

Sig took them around to the back of the butchery where the front door to the house proper was. Al glanced around at the familiar yard, and it seemed… smaller, more ordinary than his memories of it. Still, this is where he’d learned how to fight, how to use the power of his opponents against them, how to pick himself up again even when he was sore and out of breath. (Even if metal didn’t bruise the same way skin did. Even if he had no breath to lose anymore.)

Sig leaned into an open window, and appeared to be talking to Izumi. A few moments later, the front door was being thrown open, and there she stood, just as Al remembered. Her braids were tied back and the edges of her tattoo peeked out from under the collar of her shirt. She was scowling, and her serious black eyes immediately locked onto Ed. There was fury burning in her face. Before Al could react, Izumi struck out, her sandaled foot connecting with Ed’s cheek and dropping him into the dirt.

“So I hear that my idiot pupil has become a dog of the military!” Izumi projected, her voice not quite tipping into a yell but still loud and commanding. “What do you have to say for yourself?! And where’s your brother?”

“Uh, um,” Al stuttered from beside the wide open door. "Here, Teacher…"

Izumi turned to look at him, but Al was surprised to see the intense fury burning on her face immediately melt away. “Alphonse? Is that really you? Look at how big you’ve gotten!”

Relief that she didn’t seem to be mad at him too washed over Al, and he took a step forward to shake her hand. “Y-yeah! It’s really good to see you again, Teacher--”

Izumi grabbed Al’s wrist and used a clever bit of leverage to get him flat on his back in the dirt.

“You boys have a lot of explaining to do!” she said angrily, before immediately spitting up a wave of blood.

“Teacher!” Ed cried, scrambling to his feet. His hat was at an awkward angle, but his ears were still hidden at least.

Izumi held out her hand in a _stay away_ motion. Sig was already at her side, pulling a bottle of medicine from his pocket and resting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t push yourself, dear,” Sig said in a gentle voice.

Ed and Al glanced at each other. It seemed Izumi’s condition hadn’t improved.

They all moved into the Curtis’ kitchen, gathering around the table to talk. Izumi asked why they had come, and Ed answered by asking if she knew anything about the philosopher’s stone. She admitted that she didn’t, that such pursuits were of no interest to her. Then Sig brought up someone they met in Central.

“Central?” Al repeated, looking at Ed. “It couldn’t have been Dr. Marcoh, then.”

“Marcoh? No,” Izumi said with a shake of her head. “What was his name… It had a foreign ring to it... Ah, It was Hohenheim.”

Shocked, Al jerked back in his seat, and then immediately turned to Ed to see his reaction. He was clenching his hands around his knees, hard, and staring at nothing, his teeth gritted.

“So he is alive after all,” Ed muttered, the beginnings of a growl underlying his words.

“Someone you know?” Izumi inquired.

Looking at Ed, it didn’t seem like he was willing to say it out loud. So Al turned to Izumi and said, “He’s our father.”

“He’s a good-for-nothing bastard, is what he is!” Ed shouted, banging his fist on the table. “It’s _his_ fault that Mom died. If he had just _been there_ then none of this shit would have happened! How could he do that to her? How could he do that to _us?!”_

Al was conflicted. He didn’t want to agree with Ed; he wanted to believe that their dad was a good person, that he had a reason, but it was hard to ignore Ed’s point. Maybe if their father had stayed and helped look after them, their mother wouldn’t have felt the need to hide her illness, and she could have gotten treated. Maybe if they’d had their father’s guidance, they wouldn’t have sought the human transmutation that took away their bodies. Maybe they would still be home in Resembool, living ordinary lives and oblivious to the death and horrible secrets they’d been exposed to by aligning themselves with the military.

But in a world where they never left, they never would have met Nina. Tucker’s transmutation would have succeeded, and _she_ would be the one stuck living as a chimera, nothing but a science experiment for her father. They never would have met Rose in Liore, or helped the people of Youswell...

Al shook off all the what-ifs and maybes; he had to focus on what was real. “What did our dad say about the stone?” he asked Izumi, deciding to ignore Ed’s outburst for now.

Izumi frowned up at the ceiling, tapping her chin like she was trying to remember. “Nothing specific, just something vague about a goal being within sight… It had something to do with the stone, but like I said, I’m not interested in it, so I didn’t ask.”

“I see,” Al said, and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

He wanted to ask more about Dad; was he healthy, did he seem happy, what was he like? But he didn’t want to pester Izumi, and he knew Ed would only get angrier the more they talked about Dad. So he let it go, and instead changed the subject, talking about Rush Valley and Satella’s baby and Winry’s decision to become an apprentice there. Ed joined in the conversation, his mood improving somewhat, and then Izumi and Sig went off to get dinner ready.

Al managed to bluff his way into not eating any dinner, and then he and Ed were sent off to bed.

“Our old room,” Ed observed as Izumi opened the door.

“I’d apologize for the dust, but I didn’t receive any warning whatsoever that you were coming,” Izumi quipped, glaring at both brothers.

Ed just shrugged and flopped down on the bed that had been his all those years ago. “I don’t mind a little dust. Thanks. You should get some rest, Teacher.”

Izumi made an affronted sound. “Watch it, mouthy. I can still kick your ass.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ed said, but he was staring at the ceiling, evidently off in his own world.

Izumi sighed and Al caught the little smile that she turned away to hide. “Sleep well, boys,” she said as she began to close the door.

“Sleep well, Teacher,” Al parroted back.

The door shut with a soft click and the brothers were alone. Al looked around the room -- it looked exactly the same as it had four years ago, give or take a few cobwebs. He wondered why the Curtis’ never converted it back into whatever it had been before the brothers came to live with them. Surely they had been using the space for something. Although, it was kind of touching if they had saved the space just for Ed and Al.

“What do you think, brother?” Al asked, sitting on the edge of the bed opposite Ed. “Was it worth it to come here?”

Ed only hummed in response, clearly distracted. He tugged his hat off and rubbed his ears between his fingers for a few seconds, a frown forming on his face.

“Is something on your mind?” Al gently pressed, knowing that it likely had to do with the fact that they now knew, for sure, that their Dad was alive and had _chosen_ not to come home even once in ten years.

Ed surprised his brother by instead saying, “I think Teacher might’ve seen the gate.”

“The gate?” Al repeated, baffled. “What do you mean?”

“She performs alchemy without a circle, remember?” Ed said, like that would make his point more obvious.

“Just like you can,” Al confirmed. “But what does that mean?”

Ed swung himself into a sitting position and leaned forward with his elbows resting loosely on his knees. His ears were halfway back, and he continued to stare at nothing with a contemplative frown on his face. “I'm gonna ask her about it tomorrow,” he said.

“Alright,” Al said with a nod. He could wait until tomorrow to hear their conversation and learn what Ed meant by ‘the gate’. He’d mentioned it once or twice before, when Al asked him about his circle-less alchemy.

 _“Can’t you do it too? Didn’t you see it?”_ Ed had asked when he performed his first transmutation without a circle.

 _“See what?”_ Al had asked back.

 _“The gate,”_ Ed had answered simply.

_“What gate?”_

Al remembered the funny look Ed had given him, before his older brother had shaken his head and said, _“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”_

Al had tried to ask Ed about the gate before, but Ed never gave him a straight answer. He always made a weird face, and then changed the subject or said something vague about how it was a dream he’d had. Al had to admit he was pretty curious and a little concerned about what the gate was, and maybe the conversation with Izumi would finally shed some light on it. Clearly it had something to do with the ability to perform alchemy without an array.

As Ed got ready for bed, Al took out his notebook to make a few notes. He added _Sig’s cooking_ to his list of foods to eat, and _hug for Teacher_ went on the list of physical sensations. After taking a moment to look at Ed’s curled up form under the covers and seeing his ear flick once as if to get rid of a fly, Al added one more thing to his list.

_Pet Ed (when he’s asleep... so he doesn’t get mad)._

~~~

The next morning, before breakfast, Ed quietly pulled Izumi aside and asked to speak with her. She gave him a once-over, and said, “Meet me in the yard. Bring your brother.”

They split off in different directions, and once Ed had found Al and nudged him up out of his seat, both brothers headed for the door. The yard was lit by the morning sunlight, the grass damp and the sky clear. The faint rumble of a car would pass every so often, in the distance. Izumi stood with her back to the boys, her arms folded in front of her.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Izumi asked, still facing away.

Ed hesitated, glancing at Al for support. Al nodded at him, and he steeled his nerves. Asking her about this would probably give himself away too, but, well… that was the price for knowing. Equivalency, and all that. “Well, Teacher, I, um…”

There was a clap and a flash of alchemic sparks as Izumi transmuted something out of the brick wall before her. Ed’s instincts tingled and he reflexively jumped backwards as Izumi lashed out at him with the newly-formed spear in her hands.

There was no time to ask why or finish his thought from before. Izumi was relentless, slashing and stabbing again and again. Ed had to dodge without using his tail to balance, which felt so much harder to do even though he’d managed perfectly fine without it _before._ Eventually he mistimed a step and the spear came down towards him unavoidably. Reflex took over, his heart racing with the instinct to protect himself, and he clapped his hands together to transmute the familiar steel-and-chrome of his automail into a blade. He parried the spear away, and fell into a defensive stance, waiting for more attacks that never came.

“I knew it,” Izumi said coldly as she lowered her weapon. “You can transmute without a circle. You have an automail arm and leg. Al’s armor is completely hollow. You went and did it, didn’t you?”

“How could you tell?” Al asked, stunned.

“From sparring, obviously!” Izumi shouted, making Ed and Al both flinch. “Answer the question! You committed the taboo! Admit it!”

Ed swallowed and squared his shoulders. He wasn’t proud, but he wasn’t going to look away from his sins. “Yes,” he said grimly. “And so have you.”

“What?” Al gasped.

Ed braced himself to be slapped for that, but Izumi just stared at both of them, and the longer she stared, the more her expression took on sadness and regret, rather than anger.

“It seems that a foolish teacher is doomed to produce foolish pupils,” she said. It was as much of an admission as anything, in Ed’s opinion. “There is one thing I don’t understand, however,” Izumi continued, striding up to Ed.

He tensed, and tried to block her hand as it came up towards his head. She gave him a fiery look, and he grimaced, but said, “Please, not outside.”

Once they were back in the kitchen, and Izumi turned to face him, Ed saved her the trouble and pulled the hat off himself. His ears flattened with anticipation as he waited for Izumi to gasp or flinch or something, but she just let out a soft sigh.

“I thought so,” she murmured, stepping up to him again, but much less threateningly this time.

“How did you know?” Ed asked, perplexed.

Izumi frowned at him. “Human pupils don’t constrict vertically, Ed.”

Ed winced. Maybe he should invest in some sunglasses.

His teacher took his jaw in her hand, and gently tilted his head as she examined his eyes and ears. He forced his ears to relax, twitching them forwards again. He wouldn’t normally let someone else touch his face and scrutinize him so heavily, but he trusted Izumi and ached to know what her opinion was.

“Who did this to you?” Izumi asked quietly. Her tone was soft with sympathy but her eyes were angry on his behalf.

“A state alchemist named Shou Tucker,” Ed told her, wringing his hat between his hands. “He was going to do it to his daughter, but I managed to stop him just in time. He was killed by a murderer the same day he was arrested.”

“Oh, Ed…” Izumi sighed. Her hand moved from his jaw to the back of his neck and she wound him close to her for a hug, pressing his face into her shoulder. He accepted it, and told himself he was begrudging her this, but in reality he desperately didn’t want her to let go. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held by someone like this.

“You too, come here,” Izumi said, and folded Al into the embrace as well.

Ed let his eyes drift shut, and he took in the clean smell of Izumi’s shirt. Her hand was warm on the back of his neck and he felt lulled by the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. His muscles began to relax, slowly at first, and then all at once.

_Safe, comfort._

He felt a small vibration in his chest.

_Safe. Comfort. Purring._

Upon recognizing the sensation, Ed pulled away with a sputter, coughing to cover the noise. Izumi raised her eyebrows at him, and he felt embarrassment flood his face. “Uh, sorry. I mean thank you. I mean…”

“It’s alright, Ed,” Izumi laughed at him, shaking her head. “Why don’t we have some breakfast? After that we can set you boys up with some chores.”

Ed nodded, too flustered to complain.


	14. Chapter 14

While Al was handed a broom and sent to sweep the street outside the shopfront, Ed was made to work in the back with Sig, wrapping cold cuts.

“Where’s Teacher?” Ed asked after a few minutes of realizing he hadn't seen her since she had shoved him towards the butchery’s cold room.

“Resting,” Sig answered without really looking at Ed. “Tie that tighter.”

Ed grumbled and undid the knot he’d just made in the twine so he could do as he was told.

Over the next hour, Sig proved to be as much of a conversationalist as Ed remembered. They worked mostly in silence, with Sig giving simple instructions from time to time, and Ed doing his best to follow them. This kind of mindless task was one Ed hadn’t had to do in a long time. He wanted to grumble about it, but he knew he shouldn’t. As much as people accused him of being a cocky little shit, Izumi and Pinako both had drummed into him the value of hard work without using alchemy as a shortcut. He still liked to scoff at that, because he didn’t truly understand why anyone would want to make more work for themselves if there was an easier solution, but he went along with it anyway.

“Alright,” Sig said when Ed handed him the last pound of wrapped pork. “Go get your brother. You’ll both be helping make lunch.”

Ed sighed. “Yeah, sure.”

When he went out front to fetch Al, the street was empty.

“Alphonse?” Ed called, wondering if maybe he was around the corner or something. He glanced around, and noticed the fallen broom laying a little ways away. Al was nowhere to be seen.

Ed started down the alley, calling out for his brother. Al was probably around one of these corners somewhere, petting a stray cat or something.

A bit of movement caught Ed’s eye and he stopped, turning towards the narrow alley in his periphery. He saw a short, cloaked figure, and a strange scent tickled his nose.

“I can tell you where your brother is,” called a reedy, almost grating voice. “If you tell me the secret of his body.”

Ed narrowed his eyes. “Or,” he said, advancing on the figure. “You could just tell me, so that I don’t beat you to a pulp.”

The person cowered, and as Ed got closer he could see that they were a man; he was bald, and only a few inches taller than Ed. The closer Ed got, the stronger that strange smell was. Since Ed’s body had been altered, he’d learned that humans had an easily identifiable smell. Some humans smelled like other, specific things (Winry smelled like automail grease, for example) but underneath those characteristic smells it was still always recognizably _human._ This man did not smell human.

Ed stopped at the mouth of the alley, and the man took a few nervous steps back.

“Who are you?” Ed asked suspiciously. “Where’s my brother?”

The man sniffed the air and tilted his head to the side. “How very strange… No one mentioned you were a chimera too…”

Ed stiffened, his jaw clenching. “Too? Are you… you're a chimera?” he asked urgently, remembering what Dr. Marcoh had told him about the military chimera lab.

The man grinned, and a thick tail swished out from under his cloak. “Mr. Greed would really like to talk to you,” he said.

Ed clenched his fists. “How many more of you are there? Is this ‘Mr. Greed’ the one who turned you into a chimera?” he asked, his voice low, waiting for a reason to get angry.

“Oh, nonono, Mr. Greed saved me!” the man exclaimed, waving his hands. “Me and the others! We owe him our freedom and our lives. Now, come with me!” The man turned and scurried down the alleyway.

“Hey, wait!” Ed shouted, giving chase.

The guy was faster than Ed anticipated, and it took all of his energy just to keep up. Every ten paces or so, the man would slow down and glance back to make sure Ed was still following him, before putting on another burst of speed.

When the guy finally stopped in front of an archway and Ed was able to catch up with him, he grabbed the back of his cloak and shook him. “Quit running!” Ed panted. “Is this where my brother is?” he asked between breaths, looking up at the sign above the arch that read _Devil’s Nest._ Inside the arch was a staircase leading underground.

“Yup! Come on, Mr. Greed is waiting,” said the man, slithering out of Ed’s grasp and heading down the stairs. Up close, Ed could see that he had scales of some kind growing on his face and hands; he must be a reptile chimera of some kind.

The chimera man led him down into the seediest-looking dive bar Ed had ever seen. Shady figures sat in even shadier corners, but no one seemed to pay any attention to them as they crossed the room to another set of descending stairs. Ed was wary, the smell of cheap booze and rotted wood setting him on edge.

At the bottom of the stairs was a hallway, and though it seemed to continue for quite a while, the man stopped in front of a metal door and knocked on it. There were other people down the hall, looking their way curiously. The air was thick with that non-human scent; Ed couldn’t pick out individual animals from this far away, but it seemed like this place was crawling with chimeras.

“Mr. Greed! I brought the Fullmetal boy!” the man called out.

Ed didn’t wait for an answer from within. He shouldered past the man and threw open the door. He was unsure what to expect from this encounter, but he wasn’t leaving here without Alphonse.

The room inside had little in it apart from some crates and a handful of people. Ed clocked each of them, trying to assess threat level. Among the more interesting individuals was a shorter man with dark hair and a sword at his hip, a larger man wearing what looked like a military uniform stripped of all the gold braiding and rank pins who carried a heavy-looking maul, and a lean but tall man wearing a fur-collared vest. Sitting against the farthest wall with his hands and feet bound was Al.

“Brother!” Al cried upon seeing Ed.

“Hey Al,” Ed replied casually. “What’s the big idea, thought you could run off so that _I’d_ have to finish your chores?”

Ignoring the jab, Al said urgently, “Brother, these people are human chimeras, and that man is a homunculus!” He pointed with his tied hands to the man in front of him, the one in the vest.

Ed was less shocked about the other folks in here being chimeras, since that seemed pretty obvious at this point, but the word _homunculus_ had him doing a double-take.

“Hey, no fair. You ruined the surprise,” complained the man Al said was a homunculus. He shook his head and then grinned at Ed, spreading his arms open. “Welcome, alchemist! My name is Greed, and I’m so happy you’re here. I want us to be friends.”

Ed’s hackles started to prickle. Something here felt off. He didn’t like the atmosphere of this place, but he wanted to know more about the other chimeras, and about the implications of Greed being a homunculus. “I don’t think kidnapping my brother is a very good way to start a friendship,” he said testily.

“That was just my way of inviting you here. No harm will come to him or you as long as you tell me what I want to know,” Greed said, resting a hand on his hip. Ed’s eyes were drawn to it, and was startled to see an emblem he’d seen before: the triangles that represent elements in alchemy, encircled by a winged serpent devouring its own tail. The ouroboros symbol. It was the exact same emblem borne by the people at the fifth lab, the woman with the unnatural fingernails and the one who had called Ed a pipsqueak before kneeing him unconscious.

“Nice tattoo,” Ed remarked suspiciously.

Greed’s smile sharpened. “What, this?” he asked in mock surprise, lifting his hand to display the mark. “You can ask me about it if you like. If, in exchange, you tell me the secret of how you bound your brother’s soul to that armor.”

“Why don’t you ask your buddies in the ouroboros gang?” Ed shot back. “The ones at the fifth lab. They had some soul-bound armor working for them.”

“Did they, now?” Greed said, and Ed was interested in why he seemed genuinely surprised. These people clearly had something to do with each other. If Greed had the tattoo and was a homunculus, did that mean those other two were homunculi as well? “We’re not really on speaking terms, at the moment. Different agendas,” Greed continued, unbothered.

“And what exactly _is_ your agenda? Why would a homunculus need to know how to perform soul alchemy?” Ed asked, inching a little further into the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his reptilian guide slinking around towards the larger man in the stripped military jacket.

“He said he wants to be immortal,” Al chimed in. “Even though he’s already two hundred years old, he said his body is still technically human.”

“Yeah,” Greed said, looking a little annoyed. “Quit stealing my thunder, kid. I’m trying to have a negotiation here.”

“You’re going to be negotiating with my fists if you don’t let my brother go,” Ed retorted.

The man with the sword stepped into Ed’s line of sight, not quite standing between him and Greed but clearly positioning himself to intervene if things got aggressive. He had one hand resting on the scabbard, and when he locked eyes with Ed the alchemist felt every hair on his body go stiff.

_Dog! Dog! Dog!_

Ed wanted to laugh at his terrible luck, but all he could do was bare his teeth as his pupils sharped to slits and a small growl started up in his chest. “Who’s this mangy mutt?” he spat, unable to control his physical reaction to the scent of _dog_ that invaded his nose.

“The name’s Dolcetto,” said the mutt in question, a smirk on his face. “Relax, kid. I’m not the type to chase little kitty-cats.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING LITTLE?!”

Irritated beyond measure, Ed yanked his tail out of the back of his belt, unable to stand the feeling of it being trapped while also completely poofed out in anger. Ed would have leapt at this Dolcetto guy’s throat if it weren’t for how strongly he repulsed Ed’s feline sensibilities. Instead, Ed stood his ground, his now-free tail swishing back and forth to display his agitation.

“Yeah, you’re more the type to chase the milkman, Dol,” jeered a female voice that seemed to be coming from… _inside_ of Al?

Before Ed could ask, Al’s helmet lifted and a blond woman with a tattoo that snaked up her shoulder and jaw peeked out with a grin directed at Dolcetto. Al squirmed in discomfort, and Dolcetto glared back at her.

“Shut up, Martel, it was _one_ time. That guy was up to something, I swear!”

“Well now, isn’t that interesting,” Greed said, ignoring the bickering. He walked closer to Ed, peering at him with open curiosity. He wasn't like the chimeras, he did smell human, but there was something else about him that made Ed's skin crawl. He didn't know how, but he instinctively just knew that Greed had a power lurking within him that Ed did not want to touch. Ed glared at him, even letting out a small warning hiss when the man got too close.

_Not-human, fake-human, danger. Stay away!_

Greed stopped short at the sound, but continued to appraise Ed with his eyes. “You weren’t made in the chimera labs, were you? If you were, they’ve gotten sloppier.”

“Fuck you,” Ed spat, flexing his fingers. “I wasn’t _made_ anywhere. I’m a human, with a human mother.”

“You _were_ human,” corrected Dolcetto. “Just like we used to be,” he said, gesturing to the other people in the room

“So the chimera lab is real, then,” Ed said, ignoring Dolcetto. “Why do you guys look so normal, compared to me and him?” he asked, jerking his head at the bald guy with the scales. “If it weren’t for your stink you could almost pass for regular people.”

“We were created to be soldiers for the Amestrian military,” spoke up the large man for the first time. His voice was deep and resonant, and when Ed sniffed in his direction it reminded him of the fields in Resembool where the cattle roamed. “The alchemists there found a way to hide our animal halves within our human halves, giving us the appearance of ordinary men, but able to call on our chimera strength when needed. They used a philosopher’s stone to do it.”

That made sense. Maroch _had_ said some people from his stone research team were working in the chimera lab as well. That proved without a doubt the connection between the military, the terrible experiments, and the people with ouroboros tattoos. The homunculi.

“And it _was_ real,” Greed added, crossing his arms. “I didn’t leave much behind when I tore through it -- I picked up quite a few friends there. Ghastly experiments, those were. All to create elite chimera soldiers… The military sure is a wicked place.”

Ed narrowed his eyes, unsure if Greed was being sincere. “What were you doing there in the first place? Are you sure you weren’t overseeing the whole operation, the way your pals were for the philosopher’s stone lab?”

Greed’s grin slackened, and he leveled Ed with a hard gaze. “I’m a selfish person. They don’t call me Greed the Avaricious for no reason. Money, sex, status… I desire everything in the world worth having! What the hell does turning soldiers into chimeras do for me?”

Ed blinked in surprise, mostly at the serious tone Greed used to deliver this declaration.

“I dunno. Powerful lackeys, is my guess. What does knowing the secret of my brother’s body do for you? Aren’t homunculi already supposed to be perfect beings who never age or fall sick?”

“That last part is true,” Greed admitted, and he turned on his heel, pacing away from Ed and towards Al. Martel slipped back down into the hollow of Al’s chest, replacing the helmet as Greed approached. “But with a body like this one, not only do you never age, you don’t need to eat, or sleep, you never get tired, or feel pain… _That_ is the true perfect being!”

“Shut your damn mouth!” Ed shouted, anger blazing. “You don’t know the hell my brother’s been through! Losing your sense of smell, of taste, of touch, losing your connection to the physical world around you by being stripped of a body that can interface with it?! Why the fuck would you want that?!”

Greed paused, his back to Ed. “At least tell me how,” he said, still facing away. “And I’ll judge for myself whether it’s something I want.”

“No,” Ed said flatly. “Give me back my brother.”

Finally Greed turned around again, and he planted his hand on Al’s helmet, casually leaning his weight against Ed’s trussed-up brother. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll have no choice but to dismantle him and learn his secrets that way. Is that what you want, Fullmetal Alchemist?”

Ed pressed his palms together and transmuted his automail into a familiar point. “Like hell I’ll let you do that! Let him go!”

The sound of a blade being drawn reached Ed’s ears and his gaze darted to Dolcetto, who was now very deliberately getting between Greed and Ed, sword held carefully out in a ready stance. Every step closer he took, Ed could feel more and more of his fur standing on edge.

“Out of my way, _mutt,”_ Ed hissed.

Dolcetto’s lip curled up in a snarl, and a low growl began to fill the room. The sound made Ed’s muscles tense so hard they cramped.

_Dog! Danger! Run! Dog!_

Ed was locked in place. He couldn’t run, because that would mean abandoning Al to these people, but he couldn’t force himself forward, either. He was paralyzed, torn between his animalistic need to flee from a predator, and his fraternal need to save his brother.

Luckily, footsteps rang out in the corridor behind him, and when he glanced out of the corner of his eye he was relieved to see Izumi standing in the doorway.

"Boys!" Izumi shouted, making Ed jump. "You were meant to be getting lunch ready. It seems you can't complete even a task as simple as putting a broom away and coming inside."

"And who's this?" Greed asked, exasperated, before either brother could reply.

"Just a housewife here to collect her errant wards," Izumi said primly. "Thank you for looking out for them, and I'm sorry for any trouble they may have caused you. I'll take them off your hands now."

"Now, hold on," Greed said darkly, and his easy grin from before slipped into a dangerous frown. "You're not _taking_ anything. No one takes what's mine."

Izumi's eyes narrowed. "Yours? Respectfully, sir, these children are _mine_. I saw them first, in any case."

"We're not your _pets,"_ Ed said reproachfully.

"No, but I ought to put a bell on you anyway," Izumi snapped. Ed made an affronted sound.

“Surely there’s some way we can come to an agreement here,” Greed said, pushing back his frown into a more amiable expression. “If you’re a chimera, kid, then you’ll need our resources. If you ever get hurt, or sick, are you just expecting to be treated at a normal hospital? They won’t know what to do with you! And if the military finds out, you’ll be dragged away to whatever new labs have been built since I trashed the old one.”

Ed hesitated, his tail swishing slightly. When he’d been injured at the fight in the fifth lab, he knew that Armstrong had spoken to the people at the hospital who were treating him, because they had pointedly avoided mentioning his fur or eyes or anything, really. He didn’t know if Armstrong had bribed them or threatened them, but either way, he didn’t want that to have to become a regular occasion. He didn’t want to have to burden an ordinary doctor with the baggage that came with seeing what he was underneath his clothes.

He noticed Izumi looking at him, apparently waiting for him to respond before she did anything else.

“Soul alchemy is dangerous,” Ed said, finally. “That’s why I don’t want to give it to you. There’s no material equivalent to a human soul -- in order to transmute Al’s, I had to give my arm in exchange.” He pushed up his right sleeve, showing off a bit more of his automail.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Greed said dismissively with a flick of his hand. “I have a philosopher’s stone.”

“Wait, you… What?” Ed stammered. “Why do you have a philosopher’s stone? Did you take it from the chimera lab?”

“Didn’t need to. It’s a required component to make a homunculus in the first place,” Greed explained, almost bored. “I hadn’t mentioned that? Huh. So! I’ve given you a lot of knowledge, and I’m offering you my resources, now all you have to do is give me the secret to soul alchemy and everyone gets what they want!”

Ed hesitated again. He didn’t trust Greed, even if he did seem to be honest -- he was a _homunculus,_ he wasn’t human ( _neither are you,_ niggled a voice in the back of Ed’s head) and his goals seemed far from noble. Greed had admitted it himself: he was selfish, only out for himself. Although, all things considered, Ed was like that, too. He had joined the military for selfish personal reasons, not to help people. Getting to help out here and there was just a side effect of what he was after.

“Fine,” Ed eventually said. “I’ll tell you. But you shouldn’t use it.”

“Brother, don’t,” Al called out. “I know what you’re thinking but… I don’t want anyone else to go through what I have.”

Ed’s heart panged with guilt and sympathy. Growing frustrated again, he rubbed his face with his left hand, as if he could scrub away the indecision.

That's when the shots began to fire upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i completely omit an iconic fight scene simply because i prefer to write dialogue than action? yes. yes i did.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i put the fight scene back in bc i realized Ed needed to break his automail in order to get to the next story beat LOL

“Fuck,” Greed cursed. “Alright. This conversation will have to wait, it seems. You lot, take the kid and get out of here,” he ordered. The other chimeras in the room nodded, and the big one that smelled like cattle went to lift Al over his shoulder. Ed wanted to intervene, but he couldn’t move with Dolcetto still staring him down.

“Hey, wait,” Al protested. “What about my brother? What’s happening?”

“Hmm, good question.” Greed looked over to Ed and Izumi. “That sounds like a lot of guns, so it could be a military raid. Are you sure you want them to catch you down here like this? You could come with us.”

Ed bared his teeth at Greed and snapped, “I’m not going anywhere with you. Give me back my damn brother!” 

Muffled shouting and screaming travelled through the ceiling and walls of the room. Why would the military storm this place? To reclaim the lost chimeras? To kill Greed? As much as Ed had found himself swaying with indecision over Greed’s seemingly sincere offer of assistance with chimera-related things, he had still kidnapped and threatened to experiment on Al. Ed had to cling to that. If the military were here, then maybe he had a fighting chance to get Al back.

Dolcetto followed after the other chimeras with Al, though he was clearly reluctant to leave Greed’s side. Good. Maybe once the mutt was out of the way Ed wouldn’t feel so paralyzed and he could actually lay into Greed. The second the door was shut behind the chimeras, Ed was flinging himself at the homunculus with his bladed automail raised.

“Maybe I ought to give the military a hand!” he hissed. He brought his blade up towards Greed’s face, expecting him to try and block it. Instead, Ed’s automail connected with Greed’s jaw, and  _ broke. _ The steel casing that Ed had transmuted to a point creaked, then shifted with an audible  _ thunk. _ Ed caught his balance and stared, wide-eyed.  _ How the hell-- _

Half of Greed’s face had turned a matte, charcoal black. “Woah, kid! Take it easy,” he said with a lazy grin. “Here I thought we were getting along?”

Ed threw another punch with his left hand this time, and Greed caught it easily in his palm. Before he could throw Ed or do anything along those lines, Izumi came flying out of nowhere with a punch of her own.

“OW! Shit!” Izumi cursed as she broke away from Greed. She skidded back a few steps, holding her hand close to her chest. Ed wrenched his arm free and joined her, staring at Greed’s face; the black patch had moved to cover the other side where Izumi had struck him.

“Teacher, are you okay?” Ed asked, simultaneously gripping his automail to try and assess the damage. The casing was still attached, but it was now loose, jiggling when Ed moved his arm.

“Probably broke your fingers with a stunt like that,” Greed said, sympathetic. “Better not try it again. Look, I’m really not interested in fighting you, so if you would--”

“Don’t give me that  _ crap,” _ Ed seethed as he threw himself at Greed again.

The man -- no, the  _ homunculus _ \-- frowned and parried the attack with his forearm. That same black stuff had spread over the skin on his arms, and likely the rest of his torso as well. By coming into contact with it, Ed determined that whatever it was, it was  _ hard. _ Harder than steel.

_ How can skin be harder than steel? _ Ed wondered frantically, as Greed went on the offensive. His hands had shifted into claws, further proving just how not-human he really was. He managed to catch Ed on the cheek (warm blood spilled down his face and the sharp tang of it stung his nose) and his right shoulder -- there was a horrible screech of metal tearing and Ed swore as he jumped away. Izumi rushed in to defend him, a freshly-alchemized spear in her hands, but when Greed grabbed the shaft and  _ squeezed, _ the weapon all but shattered in his grip.

Blood pounded in Ed’s ears, and footsteps pounded on the floor outside the room. How could skin be harder than steel?

_ Carbon, _ Ed realized, his eyes going wide. Greed hesitated for a moment, looking past Ed and Izumi to where the military invaders had probably reached the door. Seizing the opportunity of his distraction, Ed clapped his hands together and felt the tingle of alchemy suffuse his veins. 

Carbon. One of the basic elements found in all organic life, required for essential metabolic pathways and accounting for 18% of a human’s chemical make-up. Carbon could also form inorganic materials of varying hardness, from diamonds to graphite, depending on the molecular structure.

Ed pressed his hands to Greed’s stomach, and forced his alchemy through the homunculus’ body with a crackle of blue sparks that rearranged the tightly-woven carbon as they went.

“What was--” Greed started to ask, but Ed was already rolling away, and he felt the displaced air where Greed had tried to swipe at his head.

“FIRE!” shouted an officer from behind.

Multiple shots went off, ringing loud in Ed’s sensitive ears.

**_BANG! BANG! BANG!_ **

Ed grit his teeth and looked at Greed, who was touching the bullet wound in his abdomen in surprise. 

“Now that’s weird,” said Greed, staring at the blood on his clawtips. Strangely red alchemical sparks flared up around the wound, and it sealed itself up like nothing had happened.

“Ed, what did you do?” Izumi demanded, and Ed noticed with unease how pale she looked.

Before Ed could reply, military officers were swarming into the room. “Secure the woman and the child, and mow down the rest! Those are the Fuhrer’s direct orders!” Ordinarily Ed would have bristled at being called a child, but he had other priorities right now.

“Alright, I think I’m gonna head out,” said Greed. Ed watched in dismay as Greed kicked a soldier in the stomach, sending her flying backwards into a comrade, and then the homunculus turned tail and ran. He started to give chase, but flinched when more shots were fired.

**_BANG! BANG! BANG!_ **

The bullets ricocheted off Greed’s impenetrable body as he fled. Ed clamped his hands down on his ears under his hat to try and block out the noise of the blasts. All this gunfire was going to give him a headache, if not a heart attack.

“Idiots, guns won’t work! Ed, how did you alter his form to make him vulnerable? I’ll go after him and--” Izumi interrupted herself with a fit of coughing, and she doubled over, retching blood onto the concrete floor.

“Teacher!” Ed shouted, scurrying to her side. Four soldiers ran over to help, guns drawn but lowered, while the others pursued Greed through the side door. 

“I’m fine,” Izumi snapped, and Ed shot her a disbelieving look. She started coughing into her hand, and it was a rough, wet cough. When she pulled her hand away her palm was smeared with blood.

“Teacher, please sit down or something,” Ed insisted, Greed and the other chimeras all but forgotten for right now. His fur was still on end, agitation replaced with fear for Izumi’s well-being.

“Edward Elric!” boomed the familiar voice of Major Armstrong. Ed looked up from where he was slinging Izumi’s arm around his shoulder to help support her, and saw the Major, uniform unbuttoned but thankfully still on, standing in the doorway. Ed was relieved to see the familiar face -- he didn’t know any of these other soldiers, and couldn't trust them to get Al back the way he trusted Armstrong.

“I’ve got this, Major,” Ed called, guiding his wobbly teacher over to the room’s entrance. “They still have Alphonse -- that way!” He pointed to the other door, where the chimeras and their leader had fled.

Armstrong huffed his assent, and led the charge of half a dozen more soldiers the way Ed had directed them.

Ed helped Izumi lower herself onto the floor once they were out in the corridor, trying his best not to jostle her. She was paler than normal, making the blood on her lips and chin stand out even brighter red. Her eyes were closed tight in an expression of pain, her breathing laboured. Ed hated seeing her like this. She was one of the toughest people he’d ever met, capable of great physical and alchemical feats -- it felt  _ wrong _ for her to appear so weak.

Of course, he could never call her weak out loud, at the risk of great physical and alchemical feats being performed upon his person.

Still, he wanted to just curl up beside her and purr until her pain went away. Instead of doing that (and embarrassed by the thought of it) Ed stood guard of her, arms crossed and eyes peeled for Greed or any other threat.

“How’s your hand, Teacher?” Ed asked, tail curling and uncurling restlessly. 

Izumi let out a weak chuckle. “Shouldn’t I be the one looking after you?”

Ed chewed on his lip for a moment before saying, “I’m sure that you would be, if I needed it.”

“Stubborn brat,” Izumi murmured, but it wasn’t an insult. Ed felt his shoulders relax just a smidge. 

~~~

When Armstrong appeared around the corner carrying Alphonse, Ed felt glee rise in his chest, before it was quickly drowned in dread. Blood was leaking out from the seams of the armor, staining the loincloth and leaving a trail of drips behind them. Also, Al was limp in the Major’s arms. His body clanked with every step, but why did Armstrong have to carry him at all?

“What happened?” Ed demanded, running up to Armstrong. “Why is he bleeding, he shouldn’t  _ bleed, _ what the hell is-- oh.” Ed cut himself off and remembered suddenly the woman who had been camped out in the armor when Al had been dragged off. Martel, the chimera.

Amstrong’s expression was solemn and sorrowful. He carefully set Al down and propped him up against the corridor wall. “Help me get this open, Edward,” he said, placing his hand on Al’s chestplate. Al’s head hung forward limply, the eyes of the visor devoid of the familiar soft red glow that usually filled them.

Panic surged through Ed’s veins, causing his hands to shake as he fumbled with the clasps that held the armor together. The smell of blood was overpowering; there was so much of it.

(The smell of blood brought him back to that night, in his house, when the alchemical light had left him screaming, the sharp tang of blood in his nose and pain in his leg, looking out across the floor and seeing the pulsing, unfinished organs, ribs towering above him, blood spilling across the floor and Alphonse was  _ gone-- _ )

Ed clapped his hand over his mouth and turned away, trying not to retch. 

When Ed managed to look again, Armstrong had set the chestplate to the side and was pulling Martel out. Her body was limp, only a few minutes dead at most, her skin and clothing drenched in blood. Ed snapped his eyes shut and covered his nose, hunching in on himself and feeling self-hatred rise like a fire in his throat.  _ Don’t look away, dammit, _ Ed screamed at himself.  _ This is what happens! People die and it’s horrible but I can’t keep looking away from it!  _

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Izumi, her bloody lips stoic but her eyes sympathetic. Ed took a few deep breaths through his mouth and tried to calm down. He could let Armstrong deal with Martel’s corpse. He had to focus on Al. 

Peering inside the hollow chest cavity made Ed’s stomach turn again; the bloodscent hadn’t faded an inch. Looking at Al’s seal, there was a spatter of fresh blood cutting across it, which would explain why Al wasn’t responding. The seal was how his soul was anchored there, if anything happened to it, he couldn’t inhabit the armor. It wasn’t technically  _ broken, _ just  _ interrupted _ by more of the same material that had been used to make it, which meant that if Ed was careful, he should be able to fix it.

Hopefully.

Closing his eyes and pressing his palms together, Ed focused. 

Blood; composed of water, carbon, nitrogen, iron. Steel; composed of carbon and iron. Blood to steel; carbon to carbon, iron to iron. Soul to armor. Covalent, ionic, alchemic, familial. 

Ed pressed his fingertips lightly to the seal, and it glowed with blue light. Martel’s blood peeled away from the section of steel as Ed isolated its chemical makeup -- she was not related to them, her blood was different, other, not even fully human. He rearranged the carbon in it, and the blood fell, now in the shape of a tiny red pebble. The seal was unblemished again, just as it had been for four years.

Ed extricated himself from al’s hollow body and watched, expectantly. Nothing happened.

“Al?” Ed questioned, reaching out to touch the armor. “Al, can you hear me? That should have worked, why didn’t it -- Al? Alphonse? Please, answer me!”

Ed was trembling now, shaking his brother’s casing, causing the helmet to rattle. This couldn’t be the end, Al couldn’t  _ die, _ not after everything Ed had given to try and keep him alive, he couldn’t, it wasn’t  _ fair-- _

“Brother?” The voice was faint and confused and unmistakably Al’s.

Ed crumpled with relief, pressing his forehead to Al’s shoulder. “Thank fuck,” he sighed. “You had me worried for a second.”

“Worried about me?” Al repeated, like he couldn’t fathom it. “Worry about  _ yourself!  _ You’re covered in... blood…” Al trailed off as he noticed that he had even more blood on himself.

Ed swallowed and picked himself back up, tail twitching nervously. There was a trail of blood leading to where Armstrong had just finished pulling a sheet over Martel’s body. Al gasped when he saw, and immediately buried his helmet in his hands.

“No,” Al cried softly. “I couldn’t save her… I tried to save her, but I failed… She died and I -- I couldn’t do anything!”

Ed’s breath caught in his throat. He thought about the soldiers in East City who had died right in front of him,  _ because _ of him. Ed couldn’t imagine what Al must be feeling. To feel so helpless as someone dies, to be so close to them (she was literally  _ inside _ his armor; can’t get much closer) and still unable to help… Ed put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and ached with how much he wished Al could feel it.

“What happened?” Ed asked gently.

“It was--”

“Hello, Fullmetal.”

Ed’s head jerked up and he saw none other than Fuhrer Bradley walking towards him, flanked by soldiers on either side. Major Armstrong and the soldiers with him snapped to attention, but Ed just faced him, tense. He realized with a start that his tail was still out and visible, and he forced it still behind his legs, hoping against hope that maybe the Fuhrer wouldn’t see it.

“Fuhrer Bradley. I didn’t expect to see you here, sir,” Ed said, because while he could get away with being informal with Mustang, disrespecting his commanding officer and disrespecting the ruler of Amestris were two different beasts. One was funny, the other was treason.

“Yes, well I was meant to be conducting an inspection at the Southern HQ, but when I heard you might be here in Dublith it gave me incentive to stop in, see if I couldn’t give you a hand,” explained the Fuhrer with a genial smile. “I’m glad I did. Is your brother alright?”

Ed fought to keep his face neutral. He wanted to snarl at the Fuhrer for traumatizing Al then asking after his well-being like he actually  _ cared. _ Instead, he replied, “Yeah, we’re all good here. Thanks for your help.”

“It was my pleasure.” The Fuhrer paused, his arms folded behind his back. Ed felt the weight of his gaze, and the fur on his spine prickled. Again he was filled with that sense of…  _ danger, not-right.  _

“Can I help you with anything else, sir?” Ed asked stiffly.

“Have you ever had any previous dealings with the man who calls himself ‘Greed,’ Fullmetal?” the Fuhrer asked in response, his voice completely level and impossible to read.

“No,” Ed answered flatly.

“Did you exchange any information with him? Anything at all?”

“‘Course not,” Ed lied, keeping his tone even. “My brother went missing, so I came to find him. That’s all.” He figured keeping his story as simple as possible would be his best bet.

“Good, good. Because let me be clear,” the Fuhrer said, and his eye sharpened in a way that sent chills through Ed’s body. “If you  _ did _ exchange information, or made any sort of deal with him, I would kill you where you stand.”

Ed stood perfectly still. He knew the Fuhrer was watching him closely, looking for any kind of reaction. Well, Ed wasn’t going to give him one. He just nodded and said, “I understand.”

The Fuhrer smiled again, the intensity of his attention easing somewhat. “Then I have just one more question for you, Edward. How did you and your brother come to have such unusual bodies?”

What a loaded question. Ed hesitated, unsure what to say, how much of a lie could he get away with, standing before the Fuhrer with his tail in plain sight and Al’s empty armor bared for all to see. He needed an explanation that didn’t involve their felony, or else--

“I’m just kidding,” said the Fuhrer, interrupting Ed’s train of thought. “You brothers take care of each other. I look forward to seeing you again in Central!”

With that, the Fuhrer turned on his heel and strode away the way he came, which was deeper into the bowels of the  _ Devil’s Nest, _ not towards the exit.

_ What a nutball, _ Ed thought. He couldn’t help but feel relieved to watch the man walk away.

“Come on, Al,” Izumi said, kneeling down beside the armor and tugging the chestplate closer. “Let’s get you home and cleaned up.”

A military medic did some basic first aid on Ed and Izumi before they were allowed to leave -- the cut on Ed’s cheek got a plaster, but there wasn’t much the medic could do for the gouges in his automail or the loose plate. He’d need Winry for that. Izumi had a splint tied to her fingers, but she waved the medic away from inspecting the blood around her mouth.

“Pre-existing condition, I’m afraid,” she said wryly.

It was late afternoon by the time they reached the Curtis house. Major Armstrong insisted on walking them back, and Ed was secretly grateful for his company. Sig was standing in the doorway, and Ed wondered if he’d been waiting there the whole time. Ed handed Izumi off to her husband, and he brought her inside without a word. 

Ed turned to look at Al, who was standing just below the stoop, fists bunched in his bloodstained loincloth.

“Come on,” the alchemist said softly, drawing his brother’s attention. “Let’s go around back and get you washed up.”

“Okay,” Al whispered in response.

~~~

Wind whistled between the buildings, providing the only sound that ebbed and flowed in the Dublith night. Sometimes a car would go by, and Al would wonder what sort of reasons a person might have for being out so late. Coming home from a late night at work? On the way to start a graveyard shift? Sneaking out to visit a lover who lives across town?

Al was just relieved to have something to dwell on that was less depressing than his own failures.

He sat on the floor, rather than on the bed. He couldn’t feel the softness or the weight of a blanket anyway, so there was no point. Sometimes he would anyway, trying to mimic the life he was half-living, but not tonight. He was too on edge. Even if he was physically capable of sleep, Al didn’t think he would have gotten any tonight.

He remembered the gate. 

He remembered Truth.

And then, Martel…

Al shook his head. So much for not thinking about his failures.

In bed, a few feet away, Ed moved in his sleep. He mumbled something, but Al couldn’t make out any words. He was probably dreaming again. Al watched his sleeping form for a few minutes, the way his limbs and ears twitched and stilled randomly.

“Nnnn,” Ed groaned, rolling over completely, and now Al could make out the way his face was scrunched up, sweat glistening on his forehead. Not a pleasant dream, then. 

“No… Mom…”

Al sat up a little straighter. It had been a few months since Al had overheard Ed calling for Mom in his sleep. 

Just like every other time Ed talked in his sleep or had nightmares, Al could do nothing but wait. The first few times he’d tried to rouse Ed from his nightmares back at Granny’s house in Resembool, Ed had always unconsciously lashed out at him. So Al had stopped trying that, out of concern for Ed’s safety. Punching steel hurts, after all; but so does watching one’s brother deal with horrible nightmares night after night.

Eventually Ed’s breathing evened out again and the pinched look on his face relaxed somewhat. Al guessed that the dream was over.

Another car rumbled past. Al thought maybe that person was a bank robber, making their getaway in the dead of night.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can have a little edling. as a treat. (by that i just mean ling thinks ed is very pretty, and rightly so.)  
> non-"amestrian" language will be denoted by the use of <

After two weeks travelling on foot through the hills and forests of Amestris, Ling was glad to reach Rush Valley. It wasn't his destination, but civilization was civilization, even if it was dusty and rough in a way that Ling had come to associate with Amestrians. Back in Xing, he was used to dealing with sly courtesans and people whose loyalty and ambition were at war; motives and intentions were so often kept concealed -- but the people of Amestris weren't like that at all. Most of the people Ling had spoken to were simple farmers or tradespeople; they were often very blunt, and Ling found that honesty refreshing.

Lan Fan and Fu had instructed Ling to stay hidden for a little while so they could case the streets for an adequate place to stay. They were running low on funds -- even finding someone who would exchange their Xingese currency for Amestrian when they first arrived had been difficult, but that’s what he got for not going through the proper channels, he supposed.

He stood in an alleyway, back to the wall and arms crossed, keeping an eye out for threats. After what must have been close to ten minutes Ling noticed a familiar fatigue creeping up on him. He’d had a headache for a while now, but the heaviness of his eyes and shoulders was portentous.

It had been a few hours since his last meal. Walking around would only exacerbate his condition, but if he didn’t find something to eat before Lan Fan and Fu came back, he might fall asleep right there in the alley, which wouldn’t be good for anyone. He checked his pockets, but came up with only crumbs. His water canteen, too, was nearly dry. Ling emptied the last couple of drops onto his tongue, then pushed off from the wall, heading towards where the main thoroughfare should be.

Clearly, though, Ling had misjudged how hungry he was, because after taking only a few steps he became dizzy, and had to lean against the wall. _Well, this isn’t good,_ he managed to think, before his knees gave out and he collapsed in the dust.

He wasn’t unconscious, but his head was spinning too much for him to move or think. He just breathed, in and out, in and out, and waited for his retainers to return.

A clanking sound approached him. A voice, youthful and strangely echoey. Another voice, also young but sharper, more commanding.

“--ey, can you hear me? Helloooo?”

Ling blinked, and realized he had lost some time between being facedown in the dirt and sitting upright with a man in a large suit of armor cradling his head.

“Food,” he managed to squeak out in Amestrian.

Beside the man in the armor stood a short teen with beautiful golden hair tied in a ponytail that poked out from under a weird black hat with metal studs on it. His eyes were golden as well, and that combination of sun-bright hair and eyes reminded Ling of the faded murals he’d seen in the ruins of Xerxes. The armored man and the golden teen looked at each other, and then the teen rolled his eyes and walked away.

“We’ll get you some food, don’t worry,” said the armor, and Ling was surprised that it was the softer of the two voices that was coming out of it -- or he would have been, if he could focus on anything other than not letting his head droop forward. He just smiled faintly and waited.

The teen returned with an apple, and split it in two with his hands, one of which was scuffed metal. He offered one of the halves to Ling, who gratefully took it and bit into it weakly. It wasn’t the best-tasting apple in the world, but fruit was fruit, and once he’d swallowed a few bites he could already feel the fatigue beginning to lift.

“This will get me on my feet,” he managed to say, between bites. “But I’ll need more.”

The teen scoffed and tossed him the rest of the apple. “Sure, whatever. Come on, Al, there’s a restaurant right over there.”

Ling happily demolished the other half of the fruit, and left the core in the alley for the ants. He wobbled to his feet, and the armored boy (he sounded too young to be a man, despite his height) let him use his arm for balance as they crossed the thoroughfare and got seated on one of the open-air tables outside.

An older man came out to take their order, and Ling said, “I’ll have three plates of whatever you think is best, mister. Do you two want anything?”

The teen scowled at him, but Ling just smiled back, aiming to disarm.

“Thank you for your help,” Ling said once the man had walked off, bowing as he did. He knew the formality would probably be lost on this random Amestrian kid, but it still felt right in the name of sincerity. “You really saved my life, there.”

“Yeah, no problem,” replied the teen, but he seemed wary.

“How come you were passed out, there?” asked the armored boy, who Ling was pretty sure had been called Al by the blond one. “You don’t seem like you’re from around here.”

“You’re right,” Ling agreed with a nod. “And I’m very grateful to have been shown such kindness so far from home. It means a lot. I’m from Xing, originally, and I have a small medical condition that can affect my strength if I haven’t eaten.”

“Xing?” repeated the golden boy. “You mean east of the desert?”

“Yup! Crossing the desert sure was difficult; it made the trek from the eastern border of Amestris to here look easy.”

“Why would you go through the desert when you could take a ship to Aerugo and come up from the south?” exclaimed Al.

“I wanted to see the ruins of Xerxes,” Ling answered honestly. He didn’t know who these people were, but he didn’t see the harm in exercising the transparency he’d seen in other Amestrians he’d met so far. He would answer them honestly, and either they could help him, or they couldn’t. They were certainly an interesting duo, but Ling didn’t want to ask any questions of them until they seemed a little more comfortable -- specifically the blond one, since he still had a somewhat suspicious cock to his brow.

“I’ve heard there’s nothing to see out there except sand and rocks,” said the blond.

Ling shrugged. “That’s basically true. Still, I wanted to see it for myself.”

At that point the food was brought out, and Ling thanked the server before digging right in. As he finished his first plate, he opened his senses to the dragon’s pulse to try and get a read on these strangers. He wasn’t as perceptive as Lan Fan or Fu when it came to reading qi, but he could sense the presence of people, and could read changes in someone’s emotional state if their feelings were particularly strong.

Strangely, he couldn’t feel any qi coming from Al at all. Maybe the armor was blocking it? Sensing qi through dense materials like stone or lead was said to be difficult, so maybe that was why.

From the blond, Ling got a confusing read. The boy’s qi was warped, somehow. If an average, healthy person’s qi was like a candle flame, warm and flickering steadily, then this kid’s qi was a hot, unstable bonfire. It was wild and dangerous and strange -- feeling it touch the edge of his mind made Ling’s heart race slightly. It was perplexing, because it didn’t feel like malicious intent (he was very familiar with what the qi of someone who wished him harm felt like, and this wasn’t that) it simply felt… big. Almost like he was two people merged into one. He’d never encountered anything like it before. Maybe Fu would have some insight on it.

Ling closed off his access to the dragon’s pulse, letting the strange feral burning of the kid’s qi fade into a faint pinprick of energy that registered him the same as the other people in the street. Leaving it open too long while in Amestris had made Ling nauseous, curiously enough -- there was something about the ground here that was different and unsettling.

“So why did you come to Amestris?” asked the blond as Ling started on his second plate.

“I’m here to research alkahestry,” Ling explained. “Although I think your word for it is different. Alchemy, isn’t it?” The blond seemed to brighten up considerably at the mention of it. Ling made a note of that. “In Xing, alkahestry is mostly used for medicinal purposes. I hear that’s not the case over here, though.”

The blond shook his head. “No, our country’s main use for alchemy is militaristic.” He went on to talk about the skirmishes between the bordering countries, how the culture of Amestris heavily revolved around its military, and how alchemy was used to push progress in the field of weaponized science. It was interesting, but nothing Ling hadn’t already heard from the Amestrian tutor who had taught him the language over the past three years. While the blond was talking, Ling slurped down the rest of his second plate, and started on his third. He could feel the strength slowly coming back into his body, and his headache all but vanished.

“I have to say, I’m pretty curious about alkahestry,” admitted Al.

“I know, me too,” the blond agreed, and Ling noticed how much more at ease he was once he’d gotten to talking about alchemy and the military. “Everything we’ve read about medicinal alchemy says it’s too complicated to be practical -- I’d be interested to know what’s different about alkahestry that makes it viable as a medical practice.”

“So I take it the two of you are alchemists?” Ling guessed between bites.

“Yeah, we are, actually,” the blond replied, with the closest thing to a smile Ling had seen on his face so far. “I’m Edward Elric, and I’m certified by the military’s state alchemist program.”

Ling whistled, supposing that he was meant to be impressed. He didn’t know much about state alchemists, but he figured that the position had to require some amount of great skill.

“And I’m his younger brother, Alphonse Elric. I’m not certified, but I still practice alchemy and help my brother with his work.”

Ling smiled and set down his fork, standing up to offer his hand to shake. It was an Amestrian custom, not a Xingese one, but he figured it was only polite. “My name is Ling Yao. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Alphonse and Edward both shook his hand before he sat down again to continue eating.

“So, Ling, can you tell us more about alkahestry?” Edward asked eagerly. “Maybe a demonstration?”

Ling chewed his mouthful thoughtfully, then swallowed and opened his mouth to reply. “Afraid not. I’m not actually an alkahestrist.”

The eager smile on Edward’s face fell into a confused scowl. “Why the hell would you come all the way across the desert to learn our country’s alchemy if you don’t even know the kind practiced in your own?”

Ling shrugged, and suddenly noticed movement on a roof across the street. He glanced up towards it nonchalantly, and was happy to see Lan Fan’s mask peering back at him. He knew his retainers would probably chide him for moving from the spot they’d asked him to stay, but not even Fu would argue with him more than a few words. He was their prince, after all. The good news was that he now had something to use as leverage against these alchemists.

Feeling emboldened, Ling leaned his cheek on his fist and smiled lazily. “It’s simple, really. I’m looking for something. I’m curious to know if you’re heard of it.” He paused, making sure the brothers were hanging onto his words. “The philosopher’s stone,” he intoned, gaze sharpening to observe their reactions.

Immediately, Alphonse sat up a little straighter, and Edward’s expression tightened minutely. So they _did_ know something about it. Ling was pleased that fortune had played in his favour yet again, that it would be these two who picked him up off the side of the street.

“So, what do you know about it?” Ling asked conversationally.

"Nothing. Sorry, but we can’t help you," Edward said, and though his voice was even, Ling could feel his qi flare with emotion. “Come on, Al, we better get a move on.” He stood up from the table, and his little brother followed suit.

“You’re going to leave without paying?” Ling asked playfully. “Tsk, tsk, Edward Elric. Bad manners.”

“Pay for it yourself,” Edward retorted, pushing away from his seat

Now that wouldn’t do. Ling wasn’t finished with this conversation! He looked back up at where Lan Fan was hiding, made eye contact with her, and pointed to the Elric brothers. She ducked out of sight, the order understood.

“You really don’t know anything about it?” Ling asked, buying his retainers the couple seconds they would need to get into position. “I find that hard to believe, since word of it reached me all the way across the desert.”

“The philosopher’s stone is a legend, nothing more,” Edward replied, frustration leaking into his voice. “You’re wasting your time.”

Ling’s casual smile spread into a hungry grin. He was onto something here. The brothers _did_ know something, and didn’t want him to find out. “Am I?” he asked smugly, snapping his fingers.

At the sound of his snap, Lan Fan and Fu burst from cover, and immediately took a brother each in threatening poses -- Lan Fan held her kunai to Edward’s throat from behind, while Fu got under Al’s arm and pushed his jian up into the opening of the armors armpit.

“Let’s try that again, hm? What do you know about the philosopher’s stone?”

“Why so interested?” Edward countered. “You’re not even an alchemist, what good would it do for you to have one?”

Ling was impressed by his guts -- Edward hadn’t flinched at all when Lan Fan had appeared. He lowered his voice, still grinning, and said, “Immortality.”

“Immortality…” Alphonse repeated in a mutter. “Brother?”

“Yeah. It’s total nonsense,” Edward said dismissively.

Ling chuckled at him, amused that he was still feigning ignorance. “Not to me it isn’t.”

Edward’s shoulders rolled backwards as he sighed. “Ah, I guess this is what we get for picking up strays.”

Without warning, Ed was moving, his metal hand coming up to push Lan Fan’s kunai away from his throat, and his other fist followed it up with a punch that Lan Fan dodged easily. She leapt in the air and delivered a kick that sent Edward sprawling on the dusty road. Meanwhile Alphonse had grabbed Fu’s blade, and Fu had darted back, then rushed forward again to get the momentum he needed to send the younger Elric crashing down beside his brother.

Ling picked up his fork again. “Bring them back alive and willing to chat, please!” he called out to his retainers.

 _“Bastard!”_ Edward hollered at him as he fielded more blows from Lan Fan a few yards away. “Who the hell do you think you are?!

Ling felt smug satisfaction curl in his gut as he brought his last forkful of food up to his mouth. Who did he think he was, indeed.

A surge of blue lightning lit up the street, causing a few people to gasp in shock. That must have been alchemy. They were getting too far to see now, although Ling could still track them by the explosions of light and sound. He set his fork down, plate finished, and raised his hand to his forehead, shielding the sun from his eyes as he looked out.

“Ah, off they go,” Ling remarked in amusement, speaking to no one in particular. “Hey, mister, can we get some dessert added to my tab?”

The glowing embers of Ling’s ambition had been stoked into a flame; the Elric brothers would bring him closer to what he desired, he could feel it. He simply had to leave it in the capable hands of his vassals. He would get what he wanted eventually.

He always did.

~~~

After regrouping with Lan Fan and Fu and leaving the angry townspeople of Rush Valley to the Elrics, Ling found himself crouched on a rooftop with his companions, surveying the street.

“<So. Learn anything?>” Ling asked.

“<The armored one fights well,>” Fu reported from Ling’s side. “<He is strange… Not once during our fight did I sense any sort of qi from him. It is unsettling.>”

“<Yes, I noticed that too, I thought perhaps the armor was preventing me from sensing anything,>” Ling said.

Fu shook his head. “<That would only happen if the armor was pure lead. It isn’t, and there are seams in it, besides. I am not convinced that boy is human.>”

“<I feel the same about the other one,>” Lan Fan added. “<With the metal arm.>”

“<How so?>” Ling asked, curious. He had felt it too, earlier -- something about Edward’s qi just wasn’t normal, but Lan Fan had more training in that field than Ling did, so he was eager to hear what she thought of it.

Lan Fan shifted her feet slightly, adjusting her crouch. “<His qi was like that of a wild animal.>”

“<Interesting. And what about their alkahestry?>” Ling asked, recalling the flashes of blue lightning.

“<It was certainly impressive. The short one needed no array or focus at all. He simply put his hands together like this and was able to create or destroy things in an instant.>” Lan Fan put her hands together to demonstrate, fingers straight and palms aligned. It struck Ling as a familiar gesture, but he couldn't place why. It didn't really resemble any of the traditional hand greetings in Xing, and those sort of salutes weren’t practiced in Amestris anyway. “<He broke my mask with it,>” she added bitterly.

“<I will fashion you a new one,>” Fu assured her. “<The armored one had the same ability. By all means it should be impossible to do what they have done.>”

One brother with the qi of an animal, the other with no qi at all, and both able to perform alchemy without an array. It was unheard of; even those with the simplest knowledge of alchemy and alkahestry knew that the first step was always to draw a circle, yet the Elrics blatantly disregarded those well-established rules. They were turning out to be quite the find.

“<Fu, I want you to find out where they’re staying,>” Ling ordered. “<I’d very much like to speak with them again.>”

Fu nodded, and swung down off of the roof, disappearing into the adjoining alley. Since they’d caused such a fuss, it should be easy for him to learn the information through eavesdropping on gossip, or perhaps by asking the right people directly. Ling didn’t expect him to take long.

“<You wandered off again, young lord,>” Lan Fan said, breaking Ling out of his thoughts. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was frowning, but her eyes were on the roof below their feet rather than on him.

Ling’s lips quirked up in a small smile. It was so like her to worry. “<It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?>”

“<That’s what you always say.>”

Ling chuckled. “<Because it always works out! You trust me, don’t you?>”

Finally, Lan Fan looked at him, her big dark eyes sparking with determination. “<Of course I do, my lord.>”

“<Then forgive me, already. I wander off all the time. Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?>”

Lan Fan huffed, clearly displeased but unwilling to argue, and Ling sighed. He knew he shouldn’t make light of her concern, but he didn’t see the need for it. Yes, she and her grandfather were his bodyguards, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t take care of himself.

Ling’s brain helpfully reminded him that the first thing he’d done after being left alone was pass out in the street. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. Maybe Lan Fan was onto something, actually.

A few minutes later, Fu returned with the name of an automail shop where Edward’s personal mechanic worked. Perfect -- Edward’s arm had been broken during his fight with Lan Fan, so obviously he would need to go there to get it fixed. Ling thanked Fu for his good work, and the three of them set off for Garfiel’s Atelier.

Ling introduced himself to the proprietor, Garfiel, while Lan Fan and Fu took up strategic positions elsewhere on the premises. When he closed his eyes and focused, he could feel their qi -- one just outside the window, the other up on the roof. Garfiel offered him tea, and he graciously accepted.

He was just inquiring about Garfiel’s lovely little business when Ling heard the same clanking footsteps that had preceded the brothers’ arrival when he had been passed out in the alley. He set down his tea and smirked, wondering what Edward’s reaction would be.

“Hey, we’re back! Is Winry back ye-- YOU.”

Ling turned in his seat and raised a hand in greeting. “Oh, hello Edward! Good to see you again.”

Edward’s face was red with anger. He still had his broken automail slung over one shoulder, and Alphonse was standing behind him with hands forward slightly like he wanted to grab his brother.

“What’s the big idea, huh?!” Ed shouted, stomping forward. Alphonse reached out to try and stop him but missed the back of Ed’s shirt by a centimetre. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here after sicking your attack dogs on us! What the hell was all that about?!”

Ed stopped short a few feet from the table, so Ling didn’t feel at risk of pummelling. Even if Edward _was_ that angry, Ling was fairly certain he could fight off a one-armed teen eight inches shorter than him.

“Yes, sorry about that,” Ling said, not bothering to sound sincere about it. “Their family has served mine for several generations. What did you think of them? They’re pretty great, huh?”

“Oh, you can somehow afford servants, but you can’t afford to pay your own tab?! What bullshit!” Ed raged, waving his disembodied automail for emphasis, causing Ling to stifle a laugh in his fist.

“Just because I'm the son of the Emperor doesn’t mean I keep my pockets lined with Amestrian cenz,” Ling quipped with a smile.

“Son of the Emperor?” Alphonse repeated, stepping into the shop. “Wait… so that means… you’re a _prince?”_

For some inexplicable reason, both brothers suddenly burst out laughing, gripping each other tightly as if they would collapse from the sheer hilarity of the concept if they didn’t anchor themselves in some way.

“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Ling mused, smirking anyway. He’d revealed his status as royalty to a few Amestrians on his journey -- mostly to gauge their reaction, since Amestris didn’t have a royal family and he hadn’t been sure what to expect -- and while none of them had exactly dropped to their knees in deference, none of them had responded like _that_ either _._

“Sorry,” Alphonse tittered. “We just -- really weren’t expecting that!”

“Y-you mean to tell me,” Edward gasped out between giggles. “That _you,_ the guy who we found collapsed on the road… _begging_ for food… you’re a _prince?”_ He collapsed into another fit.

The barb slid harmlessly off of Ling’s pride. He’d done far worse things in life than beg for a bit of food, and he’d do them again in a heartbeat to achieve his ends. He wasn’t insulted. Still, he wasn’t surprised when one of Lan Fan’s kunai came flying in through the window, intentionally missing Edward and sticking firmly into the wooden counter behind him.

“Don’t you dare insult the young lord,” Lan Fan said from just below the windowsill, fuming.

Ling smiled and raised his hand towards her. “It’s fine, Lan Fan. It’s hardly anything special, really. The Emperor has many sons.” He went on to explain Xing’s current power structure, how each of the fifty clans provided a wife to the Emperor, how many children the Emperor currently had, and where Ling fell in that line.

“The issue of succession must be tricky,” Alphonse commented astutely.

“You’d be correct,” Ling confirmed with a nod. “The Emperor’s health is failing, so all the heirs of Xing are scrambling to win his favour, and I am no exception. That’s why I’m here; if I can bring my father the secret of immortality, then...” he trailed off, allowing the Elrics to draw their own conclusions. He had told them a lot about himself and his goals so far; they didn’t need to know the intimate details of his ambitions.

“Then you’ll be the one in line to take the throne,” Edward finished.

Ling responded with a sly smile. “So, ready to tell me about it? The philosopher’s stone, I mean.”

Edward immediately grew guarded again, turning up his chin in exaggerated disinterest. “No way. The stone isn’t a tool for your politics.”

“Really? What a shame!” Ling stood up and weaseled his way next to Edward, flinging his arms around the shorter boy in an overly-friendly gesture. “I guess you’re just going to be stuck with me until you change your mind~”

“WHAT?! NO! Get off me!” Ed squirmed under Ling’s embrace, and then made a loud noise from his throat that sounded disturbingly like a cat hissing. It was surprising enough that Ling pulled back reflexively, and he peered curiously at Ed’s face with his hands still resting on Ed’s shoulders. He had a bandage on his cheek, and his eyes were even prettier up close. His nose was a cute shape, much different than the Xingese features Ling was used to.

What was that noise he had made? Lan Fan’s comparison from before echoed through Ling’s head. _Like that of a wild animal…_

From the front of the shop, a chipper female voice called out, “I’m back! There was some kind of commotion out there, did you--”

Ling looked over as the girl stopped dead in her tracks. She looked about his age, maybe older, with her pale blond hair tied back in a bandana and her blue Amestrian eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. She had in her arms a box of mechanical parts -- this must be Winry, the apprentice Garfiel had mentioned before Edward so rudely interrupted their conversation.

 _“What have you done to your automail?!"_ Winry screeched.

Ling quickly released Edward’s shoulders and hopped back a few steps, making room for Winry’s fury. He watched in amusement as the girl reamed Ed for his carelessness, and even began to throw things from out of her box at him.

Fu’s head lowered itself from the window, drawing Ling’s attention. “Young lord, if I may have a word,” the old man murmured.

Obligingly, Ling sat on the sill and reached up, allowing Fu to help pull him up onto the roof, where Lan Fan was already waiting. Her fingers were entwined in her scarf, her eyebrows pinched most likely with lingering anger at Edward.

“<Forgive me for asking, young lord, but why humor these people as you have been?>” Fu asked as Ling settled himself on the edge of the roof. “<That boy is beyond disrespectful -- it pains me to see you lower yourself to his level.>”

Ling rested his chin on his hand and gazed out over the street, admiring the way the last few rays of the sun painted the desert valley red and gold. “<There’s too much at stake to be worried about something as small as that,>” he said. “<We can use these people, but they have to trust us. So I will lower myself as much as I have to. The fate of 50,000 Yao clansmen rides on our success; we can’t afford to be so concerned with appearances.>”

“<I defer to your judgement, young lord,>” Fu replied, bowing his head. It was his way of telling Ling he disagreed but wouldn’t push the issue.

Ling hummed in acknowledgement and listened to the squabbling of Edward and Winry below as he watched the sun set over the valley. He was happy -- they’d finally found a lead.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s take a break from plot for a moment to relax and talk about our ~feelings~

“Gahh, damn prince,” Ed growled, glowering at the ceiling of the workshop.

“What are you grumbling about?” Winry asked. She was perched on a stool beside Ed’s prone form, tinkering with his new arm; he was lucky that she had nearly finished the new model she’d been working on when he busted his old one. It meant that he’d only had to wait a day for the reinstallation.

“That damn Xingese prince won’t leave me alone,” Ed griped. “My stupid ears are so sore from keeping my stupid hat on all the time, because I never get a moment of peace. Even when I _think_ he’s gone, I’m pretty sure he has one of his attack dogs tailing me.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Winry chastised, plucking the hat off his head.

“Hey!”

“You _just_ said it was bothering you! It’s just us, Ed, relax.”

Ed growled under his breath but assented. He reached up and rubbed his aching ears, begrudgingly glad for the reprieve.

“You don’t find him interesting?” Winry asked curiously as she tightened a bolt.

“If ‘interesting’ was code for ‘pain in my ass,’ then yeah, he’s _super_ interesting.”

Winry laughed at that, and Ed felt himself relax a little more. Winry had such a calming presence when she was in a good mood. It was hard not to smile along with her. “Have you talked to him at all?”

“A little,” Winry admitted. “He reminds me of you a bit, you know.”

“What are you trying to say?” Ed demanded, ears pinning back as he filled with offense. “I am _nothing_ like that guy!”

“Are you sure?” Winry giggled. “I mean, think about it. He left his home behind to search for that stone thingie, just like you and Al did, and he grew up without his father, seeing as he was busy ruling the country. I think you have more in common with him than you realize.”

Ed huffed, a hot and uncomfortable feeling he couldn’t name rising in his throat. “Lots of people grow up without their fathers. It doesn’t mean we’re the same.”

“I know,” Winry said softly. She continued working on his arm, and the two of them soaked in the silence for several minutes. The only sound to be heard was Winry’s tools clicking and lightly scraping against his automail.

Ed mulled over what she said, what he knew about Ling. The prince was annoying, constantly badgering him about every little thing. The only reason Ed hadn’t lost his temper to Ling’s face yet was because he was actually good at talking, even if Ed was annoyed about it. He always started every conversation with _“Tell me about the philosopher’s stone?”_ and when Ed told him ‘no’ (or ‘fuck no,’ or most recently, ‘fuck you, no’) he asked something else. Before Winry had called him into the workshop to install the arm, they’d been arguing about the best way to drink tea.

Ling said a light herbal tea sweetened with honey was the best. Obviously he was wrong, because the best was a strong black tea sweetened with sugar.

Winry’s voice drew Ed out of his thoughts of tea. “Okay, everything’s in place. Ready for the nerve connection?”

Ed nodded and braced himself, gripping the side of the patient table with his free hand. Winry counted down from three and twisted the connector tool, causing the familiar flood of white-hot sensation to course through him. Ed grit his teeth, hard, and a tiny whimper escaped his throat. He pushed his head back against the table, trying to fight through the pain. After a few agonizing seconds, it began to fade into something more manageable.

He let out the breath he’d accidentally been holding, and tried to flex his right hand. The automail responded immediately, fingers curling and uncurling at his whim. “Thanks, Winry,” he said, sitting up and touching the aching port with his left hand.

“No problem,” Winry said, and her eyes lingered on him longer than normal before she started packing up her tools.

“What?” Ed questioned, nudging her leg with his foot. “You looked like you had something to say.”

Winry hesitated for a moment, then she tugged off her thick work gloves and straightened her back as she faced him again. “If you don’t like the hat, maybe you should stop wearing it,” she suggested. “I understand why you think you need to hide, but…”

Ed felt his cheeks grow warm and his ears flipped backwards. “Yeah, okay, I get it. Not everyone is as cool with it as you are, Winry.”

She picked up a wrench and tapped the heavy end of it against her other palm. “You can send anyone who gives you shit for it to me,” she said confidently. Ed chuckled at her.

“Well, thanks again for your hard work,” Ed said as he rotated his right shoulder and did some routine stretches. “We’ll probably hop on the next train to Central, so I better go find Al.”

He slid off the table, but Winry grabbed his arm to stop him from walking out. “Oh no you don’t,” she said testily. “You’re going to stay in Rush Valley for a few more days so I can monitor you.”

Ed pinned his ears back and whined. “What? Come on, Winry! We have stuff to do!”

“Hmph! If your so-called ‘stuff’ was so urgent, you shouldn’t have gone recklessly destroying your automail! _Again!”_ She punched him in his fleshy shoulder, causing him to flinch and rub the spot sheepishly. She always hit way too hard.

“Just for a day or two,” Winry repeated, calming down a little. “This arm is a new prototype, so I want to get your feedback on it before you go and mess it up again. Besides, you know you’re supposed to give yourself at least three days for new installations to settle. You always rush everything.”

Ed shrugged, looking at the wall. “I’m a busy guy. Can’t you just come with us? You can monitor me from Central.”

Winry lit up, and she clapped her hands together a few times in excitement. “Oh, that would be nice! I’d like to see the Hughes family -- do you think they’d let me stay with them again?”

Ed snorted. “Yeah, definitely. They’d probably let you move in if you asked. The Lt. Colonel is basically the friendliest person in the world, it’s really annoying.”

“Okay. Compromise: one more night here in Rush Valley, then we can all go to Central together,” Winry said decisively.

Ed sighed. He really didn’t want to have to wait even that long, but he didn’t feel like arguing. In the wake of the painful nerve reconnection, all he really wanted was to take a nap. “Sure, that’s fine. Is there somewhere I can lay down?”

Winry’s expression softened, and she reached up to pet the top of Ed’s head. “Yeah, of course.”

The touch was calming, and Ed felt his eyes droop for a moment. It was nice to be pet, nice to feel _safe_ and _comforted_ and _friend-love-cared-for._

Ed’s ego caught up with the stupid _fuzzywarm_ cat thoughts and he felt his pride wither. “Knock it off,” he said, suddenly grabbing her wrist and tugging it away from his ears.

“Huh?” Winry looked confused, and maybe a little hurt. “But you looked like you liked it…”

Embarrassment singed his cheeks. There were definitely parts of him that liked it, parts that he wanted to blame on Alexander, but he knew that even before Tucker’s transmutation he’d always found it gratifying when his Mom or Al would run their fingers through his hair -- not that he’d admit it. “I don’t like being treated like an animal,” he said defensively.

“Oh.” Winry’s eyes fell to the floor, and Ed felt a twinge of regret as he released her wrist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like…”

“It’s fine, Winry,” Ed said hurriedly. “I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

Winry just nodded, and though she gave a small smile, she was still avoiding his gaze. She pointed to a door off to the side and said, “You can lay down in my room, it’s just through there.”

“Thanks,” Ed replied automatically. Winry turned to finish packing up her tools and Ed hesitated.

_Sad. Comfort?_

His fingers twitched, wanting to grab her hand, wanting to be closer, wanting to nuzzle her so she would stop looking so upset with herself. Instead he forced himself to turn and walk stiffly to the door she’d pointed out. The last thing he wanted was to make things weird by getting all touchy-feely after explicitly telling her to _not_ touch him. He felt conflicted, but by the time he was closing the bedroom door behind him, it was too late to go back.

Maybe one day he’d stop messing things up with Winry, but that day was not today.

~~~

Ed and Al spent the night at a little inn around the corner from Garfiel’s shop. Ling had, annoyingly, traipsed along behind them when they went for dinner, but had turned down a room for himself when the innkeeper had asked. Ed made sure to poke his head out of the room’s windows and door before he got ready for bed, scanning around for Ling’s acrobatic bodyguards. He didn’t see them anywhere, but that just made him more paranoid.

In the morning, the brothers went down for breakfast and Ed was relieved to see Ling was nowhere in sight. Maybe he was a little disappointed too, because Ling _was_ kind of interesting, in that Ed had never had any sort of prolonged conversation with a Xingese person before, so he was entertained by picking up on the cultural differences and learning what sort of things were universal to humans, and what were actually just Amestrain norms. That and Ling constantly surprised him with the breadth of his knowledge on various topics -- except for alchemy, which Ling knew next to nothing about. Ed had tried to ask him more about alkahestry, but he had just shrugged and said he couldn’t give any more details than what he’d already explained. It was frustrating, to say the least.

The breakfast provided by the inn was warm and hearty, and even though it didn’t beat Granny’s homemade sausage, Ed wasn’t about to complain. When he had finished scarfing his own food, he reached over to the plate that had been set out for Al and claimed that for himself, too.

“So I was thinkin’,” Ed said with his mouth full of bacon. “We should check the train times for today, and see how early Winry is willing to leave. You could probably convince her to go a little earlier -- she doesn’t listen to me.”

“She listens to you,” Al countered. “Just not when you’re being stupid. I can go to the station and check the schedule, but you should really follow her instructions, brother. She wants what’s best for you.”

Ed huffed and leaned back in his seat. “Sitting around on my ass isn’t what’s best for me at all!”

“It is, actually. You just don’t like it,” Al replied in an amused tone. Ed glared at him and stuffed more bacon in his mouth.

Al stood up and pushed in his chair before turning towards the door. Ed forcefully swallowed his food and said, “Wait for me, Al!”

Al shook his helmet and fixed Ed with a look. “I can go to the station by myself. You’re supposed to be resting,” he said sternly.

“But I feel fine!” Ed insisted. His automail port was aching a little still, but it was a dull pain easily ignored. He’d pushed himself through far greater pains in the past -- and between his ears stuffed under his hat and his tail curled uncomfortably around his right leg, he was sore all the time anyway. A little bodily pain wouldn’t keep him down.

“Just stay here for now, please,” Al implored. “Maybe later we could check out that bookstore Winry mentioned, but only if you promise not to be running around.”

“Yeah, alright, fine,” Ed ceded, hunching over his plate again. He hated being babied, especially by his own baby brother, but he didn’t feel like arguing about it. Between Al and Winry, there was no way he was getting on a train any earlier than they would allow unless he snuck away, and he wasn’t about to leave them behind over a day’s delay.

The door to the inn opened as Al walked towards it, and Ed sighed heavily when he heard a familiar accented voice.

“Ah! Good morning, Alphonse! I was hoping to catch you at breakfast.”

“Good morning, Ling. I already ate, I was just headed to the train station to look at the schedules,” Al said. Ed pushed his plate away and buried his face in his arms on the table. Maybe Ling wouldn’t notice him.

“I see. Listen, while Edward’s not around, any chance you might want to tell me about the philosopher’s stone?”

Ed growled, low in his throat. Damn prince had a one-track mind.

“Sorry, I can’t. Um, gotta go. See you!” Al’s clanking footsteps exited the inn and faded into the distance.

Ed held his face-down pose for another couple seconds, then snuck a glance up, and jerked upright when he saw Ling standing right beside his table with a smile.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Ling asked, and Ed had the sneaking suspicion that he was being teased.

“I wasn’t asleep,” Ed said shortly, pulling his plate close to him again.

Ling pointed to the chair across from him, where Al had been sitting before. “Can I sit here?”

Ed grunted noncommittally as he shoved more toast in his mouth. “I’m not going to tell you about the stone,” he said with a small spray of crumbs.

“Okay,” Ling said affably as he sat down. Ed searched his face for any sign of irritation, but found none. If there was one thing he’d learned from this repeated encounter, it was that Ling Yao had the patience of a saint. “Will you tell me a secret instead?”

Ed blinked at him in surprise as he swallowed his toast. “Huh?” he coughed.

“Tell me a secret,” Ling insisted with a smile. “It doesn’t have to be about the stone. Any old secret will do.” He let the words hang there between the two of them, and Ed hesitated.

“Why should I?” he asked warily.

“I’ll trade you, if you like,” Ling replied. “A secret for a secret. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

“What makes you think I give a damn about your secrets?” Ed scoffed.

Ling’s pleasant smile turned into something dangerous and wise. “A man like you craves knowledge. You love to _know_ things, I see it in you.”

For some reason, Ed felt goosebumps prickle up along his arms. Maybe it was because hardly anyone ever called him a ‘man’ (he was always ‘boy,’ or ‘kid,’ and while it drove him nuts, actually being acknowledged as an adult felt a bit like a gutpunch), or maybe because Ling was right, in a way. Ed considered himself a pursuer of truth, and he hated _not_ knowing.

The land of Xing had never been of great interest to him, he’d always been too wrapped up in his own life, his own goals, and fitting himself into the political landscape of his own country to achieve them; that was before Ling had face-planted into his life, however. He found himself curious about this prince from across the desert. What sort of secrets did a person like him keep?

“Do you know what a chimera is?” Ed blurted out before he could rethink his decision.

Ling tilted his head to one side. “The word is unfamiliar to me.”

“A chimera is a creature created by alchemy by combining the bodies of animals,” Ed explained. “Biological alchemy is incredibly difficult and complex, though, which is why alchemy is hard to implement into medicine. Successful chimeras are pretty rare for that reason; a lot of chimeras die shortly after they’re made.”

Ling listened intently, his head still cocked slightly.

Ed took a deep breath. “Theoretically, it’s possible to create a chimera with humans, as well. It’s highly illegal, of course, to perform a transmutation like that.”

“Naturally,” Ling agreed. His lips quirked up in a lopsided smile. “So your secret is… you made one, didn’t you? A human chimera?”

Ed shook his head. He couldn’t make himself say it out loud.

“No? Then… ah. You _are_ one. I see.”

Ed silently finished the last of his toast without acknowledging Ling’s assumption. For a moment they sat in silence, and when Ed glanced at Ling, the prince’s face was pursed in contemplation, one hand rubbing his chin. A tiny lump of dread formed in Ed’s gut. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Ling.

While the Fuhrer had shown that he didn’t really care about Ed’s state as a chimera, he was still nervous about the idea of it becoming public knowledge in case someone else within the military decided he was better off sent to a lab. He couldn’t count on the Fuhrer to bail him out, because he had no idea what went on in that old kook’s head.

“I think that explains a couple things,” Ling said eventually. “What kind of chimera are you, if you don’t mind me asking? Some sort of feline, right?”

“A housecat,” Ed muttered. He had hissed at Ling the day they met, so it wasn’t a surprise that he could have guessed feline.

“It’s a very interesting secret,” Ling said with a smile that seemed like it was meant to be reassuring. “I promise I’ll keep it to myself. The people of Xing always keep their promises.”

“Good to know,” Ed replied. “Your turn.”

Ling’s expression fell into something more thoughtful and somber, and he leaned forward, propping his elbows up on the table. “Hmm… well, I suppose my secret would be… I am to blame for my own mother’s death.”

For a moment Ed couldn’t breathe. He remembered in vivid clarity the horrifying, inhuman visage that he’d conjured out of his own mother, the nightmares he’d had of it since. _“You couldn’t make me right,”_ her voice whispered in his head. _“I died again because of you.”_

Winry’s voice joined in suddenly, her words from the day before echoing through his mind. _“I think you have more in common with him than you realize.”_

“Edward?” Ling asked, frowning. “Are you alright? You got very pale, all of a sudden.”

“I’m fine,” Ed bluffed, shaking his head to try and clear away those thoughts. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting that. I’m… I’m sorry. About your mom.”

Ling folded his arms inside of his sleeves and inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. “You’re welcome to ask me for the story. I don’t mind telling it.”

“No,” Ed immediately declined, shaking his head. “That’s alright. I don’t need to know.” He was afraid that if he let Ling explain it, he would press Ed for more of his own secrets, and he didn't feel like airing all that out over a breakfast table.

“Are you sure?” Ling asked, giving the same lopsided smile as before. “I’d hate for you to assume the worst of me.”

“No, I… I understand. Believe me, I get it.” Ed clenched his fist in the front of his shirt, kneading at the fabric in a subconscious attempt to comfort himself. “I know what it’s like to fail someone. To be at fault for something that never should have happened. I know.”

Ling appeared to consider him for a long moment, and Ed wondered how he managed to be so damn _composed_ all the time.

“That sounds like a story for another time,” Ling said, tone light. “Care to buy me breakfast?”

Ed snorted. “How long are you planning to mooch off of me, huh?”

“As long as it takes to get you to tell me about the philosopher’s stone,” Ling replied, and Ed detected a slight barb hidden beneath the smooth delivery of the words. Perhaps Ling’s patience was finally beginning to thin.

“You know what, I’ll gladly pay your meals for the rest of your life if it means you give up on the stone,” Ed retorted. “You’re better off without it. Hey innkeep! Can we get another plate over here?”

When Ed looked back at Ling, the prince had his eyes open all the way for once, and the sheer intensity of his gaze startled Ed. His eyes were dark, and narrow even in comparison to the other Xingese folks Ed had seen, but there was something sharp about them, something that seemed to pierce right through Ed’s heart. Maybe it was because Ling wasn’t smiling anymore. He looked so serious, so mature, even though he couldn’t have been much older than Ed himself.

“I’ll never stop seeking the stone,” Ling intoned. “Maybe you don’t understand, Amestrian, but my clan needs me. So I need the stone. I will have it, with or without your help.”

Ed was frozen. His hackles were raised, unsettled by the sudden change in Ling’s demeanor.

Then Ling closed his eyes again and smiled, and the threat vanished. “But I like you, so I hope you’ll change your mind and help me. I’m glad we’re friends, at least.”

“Whoever said we were friends?” Ed muttered, shaken.

He paid for Ling’s breakfast, and the two of them bickered and chatted (Ling did most of the chatting, just as Ed did most of the bickering) until Al returned a while later.

After lunch, they headed to the train station, and Ed found himself bullied into buying not only his and Al’s tickets, but Winry and Ling’s as well. He wondered bitterly if all he was to his friends was a walking change purse. He was tempted to ask Ling about his bodyguards, but decided against it; if Ling wasn’t asking him to pay for them as well, then Ed just wouldn’t think about it. 

Within the first hour of the train ride, Ed was falling asleep with the bright afternoon sun warming his face through the window. He dreamed of chasing mice through a dingy abandoned laboratory, and when he caught one in his paw it was Ling, small and still smiling like everything in the world was going his way.

He didn’t wake up until they reached Central.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a noncommittal piece of shit and i can't decide whether i like writing edwin or edling more and this fic was never meant to be shippy either way *flips table* this is what i get for posting as i write and planning ahead by a maximum of one chapter sdjkhfjfg  
> comment your opinion below


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *kicks this chapter around a bit* i'm not the happiest with how this turned out, and i changed it multiple times, but i'm just going to leave it like this i think. continuing to stare at it is only gonna make me like it less so i just hope you enjoy!!! this is another feelings heavy chapter bc that's just how i roll.

The whistle of another train taking off from a different platform blasted through the air, causing Ed to flinch as he stepped off the train. He let out a yawn, stretching his automail arm up over his head, hoping to alleviate some of the dull pain in his port. They were back in Central, and he was already perking up at the thought of seeing Nina again.

“I’m always so sore after I get off a train,” Winry complained, rubbing her backside. “I don’t know how you two do it all the time.”

“Ahem.” Someone cleared their throat behind and above Ed, and he turned with a raised eyebrow to see Ling’s lackeys crouched on top of the train car. Had they been on the outside of the train the whole time?

“Have any of you seen where master Ling went?” asked the old man, Fu.

“Nope,” Ed replied, popping the _p._

“Yeah, he seems to have disappeared,” Al commented, glancing around the platform.

“I could have sworn he was right behind me,” Winry added.

The two bodyguards glanced at each other and sighed simultaneously. Ed snorted quietly to himself, watching them. The girl, Lan Fan, started wringing her hands, while the old man muttered to himself in a language Ed didn’t understand.

“He must have wandered off again. What if he’s collapsed?” Lan Fan fretted.

“Good riddance,” Ed said dismissively, slinging his suitcase over his shoulder. “Come on, we’ve got places to be.” He started off towards the station exit, sure that Ling would be fine and that they’d probably even see each other again, since the prince seemed convinced that they were friends now.

“Um, good luck finding him!” Winry called up to the pair before catching up to Ed.

“I think the Lt. Colonel's house is this way,” Ed said as they left the station, turning towards the road.

Before he could finish taking a step, he felt a tug on the back of his hood. He glared over his shoulder at Al, who let go and said, “Hold it, brother. I want to see Nina and them as much as you do, but we should really stop at the military office first and let them know we’re in town. When’s the last time you called Colonel Mustang to let him know where we are?”

Ed scowled at the mention of Mustang. “That bastard always seems to know what we’re up to anyway, I don’t see the point in updating him personally. But, fine, we’ll make a quick stop at headquarters.”

“Is it alright if I go on ahead to the Hughes house?” Winry asked, glancing between the brothers. “I don’t really want to go to the military headquarters, and the sun is setting soon besides.”

“Sure, Winry, go ahead,” Al encouraged. “We’ll see you there soon.”

“You can get there okay on your own?” Ed asked, turning to face her.

“Yep! I’ll be fine.” Winry flashed him a bright smile and practically skipped away in the direction Ed had been trying to head.

“I bet the Lt. Colonel is still at work,” Al remarked, head tilted up to look at the low-hanging sun. “If we hurry, maybe we can catch him at the court martial office and walk home with him once we’ve reported in.”

Ed nodded and turned on his heel, he could see the court martial office from here; it was closer than the command centre, not to mention easier to navigate. “Yeah. We’ve got to tell him what we learned, anyway. About the homunculi.”

He wondered if Hughes had learned anything else about the military’s involvement with the fifth lab. The Fuhrer had been pretty clear that they should drop their investigation and leave it to him to look into, for their own safety, but Ed wasn’t just going to forget about it. He had the idea that Hughes wouldn’t be willing to drop it so fast either.

The quickest way to get to the court martial office was through the park. Ed and Al ran down the path, passing electric lamps that were just beginning to flicker on and a public phone booth off to the side. Ed took the steps up to the building two at a time, barely remembering to flash his pocket watch at the officer stationed outside.

He only vaguely remembered where Hughes’ office was. Luckily he didn’t have to wander far before he saw a familiar face.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye?” Ed called out. The woman was leaning against the wall with a document folder in her arms, hair pinned neatly back as usual. She straightened up and turned to face them with a smile when she heard Ed’s voice.

“Hey guys, it’s been a while,” Hawkeye said with a nod as the brothers apprached.

“Yeah,” Ed agreed, but then he glanced behind her, lip curling in distaste. “If you’re here, then that means so is…”

As if on cue, Colonel Mustang turned the corner, adjusting his jacket like he’d just put it back on.

“Thanks for waiting,” Mustang said, before looking up and seeing the Elrics. He smiled and said, “Hello, Fullmetal. Alphonse. Good to see you again.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Ed grumbled. He wouldn’t admit it, but a small part of him was glad to see Mustang. They liked to get on each other’s nerves, but Ed knew that having him on his side was a good thing in the grand scheme. He had resources, information, and a willingness to help even if he did lord things over Ed’s head every once in a while. _O_ _lder-stronger,_ whispered his cat half. _Boss-challenger-friend._

“What are you doing here in Central, Colonel?” Al asked, ignoring Ed’s jab. “We just got here ourselves.”

“You didn’t hear? I was transferred to this branch not long ago,” Mustang said, looking very pleased with himself.

“Yeah, congrats, that’s great to hear,” Ed deadpanned. “We’re here to see Lt. Colonel Hughes, though. Could you point us to his office?”

Hawkeye’s gaze flickered to Mustang, who looked very calmly between the brothers and said, “He’s not here.”

“Has he gone home for the night already?” Al asked. “That’s okay, we can just --”

“No,” Mustang interrupted. “He moved away with Gracia and the girls. Out into the country, on his family’s farm. He retired from the military.”

“He did?” said Ed, taken aback. “But that’s…”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Fullmetal, I have some last minute things to finish up before I can go home for the night.” Mustang brushed past the brothers, and he lightly touched Ed’s shoulder as he went by. “Don’t go getting yourselves in over your heads, now,” he warned by way of farewell. Hawkeye followed him without a word.

Ed stared at Mustang’s retreating back, unsure what had just happened. Had Hughes really just up and left the military, left Central? He took Nina with him? And nobody had thought to tell him?

“Oh, we have to catch up to Winry and let her know,” Al said urgently. “She doesn’t know that they’re not there.”

“Right,” Ed agreed numbly. He turned the corner and bumped into someone, and when he opened his mouth to apologize he saw that it was Second Lieutenant Ross.

“Oh, Edward!” Ross exclaimed. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

“We’re fine. We just heard about Lt. Colonel Hughes,” Ed replied.

Ross’ face immediately fell, her eyes lowering and her fingers intertwining in front of her. “Right… I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

“Yeah, how come no one called?” Ed asked, kneading his palm. “We would have come sooner to say goodbye and stuff.”

“We tried to reach you, but you’re a bit hard to pin down,” Ross replied, still gazing forlornly at the floor. “Don’t worry, the military gave him a proper send-off. He was promoted, too, all the way up to Brigadier-General.”

“That was nice of them,” Al said, sounding a bit perplexed. “I’ve never heard of someone being promoted for retiring.”

Ross immediately looked up at them, shocked. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and her eyebrows pinched together in a way that made Ed’s stomach drop.

“Lieutenant Ross?” Ed probed, feeling dread slowly crawl up his throat. “Did Hughes really retire to the countryside?”

“I’m sorry,” Ross said, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” With that, she turned and ran the way she’d come.

“Lieutenant Ross!” Ed shouted, giving chase.

“Brother, come back! Winry!”

Ed tripped when he heard Al say Winry’s name. Right. They had to go find her. He spun around and ran for the exit, Ross forgotten.

They ran the whole way to the Hughes home, and by the time they reached it Ed was panting, heart in his throat. Ross’ reaction led him to believe that what happened to Hughes was worse than retirement. What would he rather find behind this door: an empty apartment, or Gracia, Elicia and Nina, but no Maes? He paused to catch his breath, but Al impatiently reached out and knocked.

After a few seconds, the door creaked open, and there stood Gracia Hughes in a wrinkled blouse, hair neat, but eyes rimmed with red. She smiled when she saw them, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Her expression was heavy with sadness and fatigue.

“So it’s true?” Ed demanded, his voice cracking. “He’s really…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Gracia nodded and took a step back, gesturing the brothers inside. “Please, come in. Winry and the girls are in the living room.”

Ed’s heart clenched painfully. He was going to have to watch Winry cry again, wasn’t he. He hated that. He took off his hat as he stepped inside, knowing that the Hughes home was safe, Gracia and Elicia and Nina were safe, but it didn’t feel quite _as_ safe knowing that Hughes himself wasn’t there.

Sure enough, on the couch, Winry was crying quietly, only noticeable from the slight shake to her shoulders and the glisten of tears on her cheeks. Huddled against her chest were Hughes’ daughters, and Winry was holding them tightly. Seeing them, like that, Ed abandoned any ideas about his image or his pride as he dropped his hat and his suitcase to the floor and went to stand in front of the couch.

_Friend-love-carer. Kitten-friend-sister. Sad, comfort, protect._

Ed knelt in front of the couch and leaned forward until his ears brushed Winry’s lowered head, placing a hand on Nina’s back as he did so.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Nina turned towards him and abandoned Winry, throwing her arms around him instead. “Brother,” she weeped. “Brothers, please stay! Stay so you don’t die! Don’t leave!”

Ed leaned back with her weight, holding her tightly against himself. Something inside him broke, a little bit, hearing Nina beg him not to leave her, like the other people in her life had left her. He squeezed his eyes shut against the burning. “I won’t,” he found himself saying, soft and fervent, desperate to comfort her. “I won’t die on you, Nina. I’m here. I’m here.”

He forced himself to look up at Winry, and she was watching him with eyebrows drawn and lips trembling, and the moment their eyes met she broke down, crying into the top of Elicia’s head. The blow of that hurt way more than the news of Hughes’ death had, (he was still reeling, actually, too focused on the grief of these girls to really feel his own) and he found himself unable to keep looking at her, so he focused on Nina instead.

Al joined him on the floor, and Gracia returned to sit delicately on the couch, holding her own arms close to her body. The five of them sat with their heavy hearts, not talking yet, just reminding themselves with glances and brief touches that they still had each other. The Hughes-shaped hole in the atmosphere was a vacuum, sucking the joy out of the reunion.

Nina wouldn’t let Ed and Al out of her sight; when Gracia took Elicia from Winry and said it was time for bed, Nina made them promise to come with her and stay in her room. Gracia tried to chide her for it, but Ed stopped her.

“I’ll stay,” he said softly. “Just until she falls asleep.”

“Me too,” Al whispered. “If that’s okay.”

Gracia smiled at them and finished tucking the girls into their little shared bed. “Alright. I’ll let Winry know. There’ll be food for you when you come out.”

“Thank you, Gracia,” Ed said, trying to pour as much sincerity into those few words as he could.

She left the door slightly open when she walked out. Ed held Nina’s hand in the darkness of the room as he waited for her to fall asleep.

_Resting, comfort. Purring._

This time, Ed didn’t force himself to stop. He just closed his eyes and let the soothing vibrations rise from his chest in soft waves. It made him sleepy too, made his muscles relax despite the high emotions he’d been dealing with ten minutes ago. It seemed to help the girls relax as well. It felt right.

Once he was sure they were asleep, Ed let his purr fade into silence, and he carefully extricated his hand from Nina’s. He and Al crept quietly out of the room, and Ed paused in the hallway when he saw Gracia hugging Winry on the couch, the older woman stroking the younger’s hair. He hadn’t thought Winry was so close to the Hugheses.

It was a somber night. Ed managed to get down some food, and Gracia told them about her husband’s death. The military still hadn’t found who’d killed him, but she mentioned that Colonel Mustang was looking into it. At the mention of him, Ed had balled his hands into fists and growled loud enough to make Gracia hesitate. That damn bastard had _lied_ right to their faces. Ed was going to deck him the next time he saw that smug prick, he swore it.

“Well, I’ll let you decide amongst yourselves who gets the spare room and who gets the couch,” Gracia eventually said, standing up. “I’m… I’m going to bed now.”

Ed’s ears strained towards her when he heard her falter. She had a very neutral expression, but her eyes were bloodshot. Ed couldn’t imagine what she must be thinking, what she must be feeling.

“We don’t want to be a bother, Gracia,” Ed said, standing as well. “We don’t have to stay. We’ll find a hotel.”

Gracia shook her head. “Don’t be silly, Edward. It’s late, and I hardly want to see the meltdown that Nina will have if she wakes up and you’re not here.”

Ed’s heart did a funny thing where it sort of skipped a beat and then squeezed painfully. He didn’t want to wake up without Nina either. He was too attached to her -- he knew he should be focusing on other things, like helping Al get his body back and finding out about the homunculi’s dealings within the military, but every time he thought about Nina it was like a switch was flipped in his brain and he went from a man on a mission to her adoring cat-brother.

He nodded silently at Gracia and sat back down.

“Goodnight,” Gracia said softly. Then she turned and disappeared down the hall.

Ed and Al made eye contact, and then they both looked at Winry, who was tightly hugging one of the couch pillows with her chin lowered to her chest. She had stopped crying, at least. She surprised Ed by being the first one of them to speak.

“What are you going to do?” she asked quietly.

“I’ll sleep on the couch. You can have the room,” Ed told her.

“That’s not what I mean.” Winry squeezed the pillow tighter for a second and she looked up at the brothers. There was an accusation in her voice. “What are you going to do now? Get into another fight? Stick your nose into something awful and get hurt because of it?”

“What are you talking about?” Ed asked, baffled.

“I’m _scared,_ Ed, don’t you get it? The two of you are running around with the military, where people have _guns_ and they get _shot_ and they _DIE!_ I want you to get your bodies back but _not_ if it means losing you!” Winry stood up and lobbed the pillow in her arms at Ed, her face contorted with outrage. It hit him in the chest and he flinched, staring at her with his ears back.

She grabbed another pillow and threw it at Al, and he yelped in surprise as his helmet was knocked clean off with the impact. It clattered to the hardwood floor, and Ed felt his own temper rise. Beating on him he would take any day, but why was she attacking _Al?_

He stood up and put himself between Winry and Al, frowning at her.

“Did that help?” he demanded. “Do you want to hit me some more? Cause it won’t bring him back. It won’t bring any of them back.”

The faces of the people who had died flashed in his mind. Hughes, Martel, the nameless guards killed by Scar, Tucker, his Mom, Winry’s parents. He knew how Winry felt. He knew how much it hurt, to be helpless as a life was lost; he was very familiar with that kind of rage. But he also knew that no matter how hard he punched, it didn’t lessen the hurt. Maybe if Winry found that out for herself she would calm down.

For a moment she reared back, and Ed closed his eyes, bracing himself for the hit, but it never came. Instead, Winry’s fist embedded itself tightly in the front of Ed’s shirt, and when he opened his eyes her head was hanging again, her body trembling. He put his hands on her shoulders, tried to duck under the curtains of her hair to look her in the eye.

“Hey, Winry,” Ed said. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Winry’s fist smoothed out until her flat palm was resting against Ed’s chest, and then she slid her hand across his shoulder to squeeze his upper arm. By then Al had picked up his helmet and was scooting hesitantly closer to them. Winry reached out to him as well, and her voice wobbled as she said, “I’m just so _terrified_ for the two of you. I’m only just realizing how much danger you must be in all the time and I… Sometimes I wish you would just give up on this and come home. I don’t ever want to get the call that Mrs. Hughes got.”

Ed exchanged a glance with Al, and then Al used his big arm span to pull all three of them close for a group hug. “I’m sorry, Winry,” Al whispered. “It must be really hard for you. You know that we can’t give up, though, right?”

“I know,” Winry sniffled. Ed silently took her hand and she squeezed his palm. “I know.”

~~~

The next day, Ed and Al had to decide what to do.

“We could go find Major Armstrong, we can talk to him,” Al suggested. He was sitting on the floor, with Nina on the armchair behind him where she was playing with his ‘hair.’

“Yeah, that seems like our best bet,” Ed agreed with a sigh. He was still sprawled on the couch, blanket draped haphazardly over his stomach and hands clasped under his head. So far, Al had only seen him get up once, to use the bathroom.

“Are you planning on moving at all today?” Al tried, hoping that maybe teasing Ed would get a less mopey reaction out of him.

“Sure, yeah,” Ed said absently, still staring upwards with unfocused eyes.

“Brother, are you even listening to me?” Al prodded.

“Yeah, brother,” Nina joined in, leaning over the top of Al’s head. “Are you even listening?”

Ed turned his head to glare at them. “I’m listening! I’m just also thinking. Is that allowed? Can I think in peace?”

Instead of rising to the bait and getting into an argument like Ed clearly wanted, Al changed the subject. “You should eat, brother. It’s almost noon and you haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Not hungry,” Ed replied, turning over onto his side, putting his back to Al.

Al wanted to sigh. Ed said he wasn’t hungry, but really he was sulking. Under any other circumstances Al would have given him grief over it, but after what they’d learned last night, he couldn’t blame Ed for wanting to sulk a little. Al had gotten his own sulking out during the night, when everyone else was asleep, and it was just him, his thoughts, and his inability to cry.

“I’m going to go see if Mrs. Gracia needs any help,” Al said, getting to his feet.

Gracia was in the kitchen getting lunch ready, and Al could only guess that Winry and Elicia were in one of the bedrooms playing a game or something. Nina tagged along with him when he went to ask Gracia if she needed anything. She said she was fine in the kitchen, but asked if he would go fetch the paper in. Al agreed, and left Nina with her mother so he could do as he was asked.

In the lobby of the apartment building was a cubby full of newspapers and other mail. Al took the paper from the cubby marked with the Hughes’ apartment number and turned to bring it upstairs. Glancing at the front page, a familiar face caught his eye, and he suddenly stopped in shock when he realized who it was.

The headline read: MILITARY OFFICER CONVICTED OF SUPERIOR’S MURDER

Under the headline and beside the accompanying article was a headshot of Second Lieutenant Maria Ross.

Al’s mind was racing. There was no way that Lieutenant Ross would do such a thing. It had to be a misunderstanding! She had been so kind to them, and she had worked in Hughes’ office with him and Major Armstrong. There was just no way she had killed him… There was no way!

Ed needed to see this.

Al ran back up the stairs, not caring if the loud clanking disturbed the neighbours. He swung open the door to the Hughes’ apartment already calling for Ed. “Brother! Look at this!”

Ed jolted upright in his spot on the couch, hair dishevelled but ears fully forward in rapt attention. “What, what is it?”

“Just look,” Al insisted, crossing the living room to hand Ed the paper.

Winry’s head peeked out from the hallway to the bedrooms. “Al? What’s going on?”

Before Al could reply, Ed was standing up and pushing the paper back into Al’s hands. “We have to go,” he said, voice grim.

That was when Nina ran into the room, looking back and forth between the brothers in distress. “Go? No, you can’t go!” She ran over to them, grabbing fistfuls of Al’s loincloth in one hand and Ed’s shirt in the other. “You said you wouldn’t leave! You _said!”_

“I’m sorry, Nina,” Ed said, kneeling to be closer to her height. “We can’t stay here forever. We’ll be back, though. This isn’t goodbye.” His voice took on that soft quality it usually had whenever he spoke to Nina. It was strange, seeing him act like that; when they were younger, the only time Ed used that voice was when Al was really hurt or scared, but he just seemed to do it without noticing when Nina was around.

“But you _said…_ ” Nina repeated, miserable.

Al felt torn. He looked at Winry, who was biting her lip, and all of the guilt he’d been bottling up burst out in a flood, filling every crevice of his armor-locked soul. He felt bad for making her worry, her and Nina both, but they couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. They had made a pledge, to themselves and to each other, and Al wasn’t about to let his brother down. Not when Ed had sacrificed so much for him.

“We _will_ be back,” Al said, reaching down to rub the top of Nina’s head. When he looked back up to Winry, his gaze was met by an empty hall.

“Let’s go see what that weasel of a Colonel has to say about this,” Ed growled, grabbing his hat.

~~~

After confronting Mustang over the corpse of Maria Ross, Ed was left to simmer.

His cheek throbbed, where the Colonel had smacked him, but the hurt went deeper than his bruised skin. For all that Ed challenged and got snippety with Mustang, their relationship had never felt as tense as it had when Ed had stared him down in the dark alleyway with the overpowering smell of charred flesh hanging in the air.

 _I hate him I hate him I hate him,_ Ed’s thoughts had looped, over and over. _Liar, killer, KILLER._

And Mustang had ignored him. Had said, “As soldiers, we follow orders without questioning them, and we do not look away from death.” Had turned his back to the brothers.

Ed had wanted to hurt him, and that scared him. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt that urge to lash out, to make someone pay (he remembered Tucker) but this was _Mustang._ Mustang, who despite his presumptuous attitude actually helped Ed and Al. He’d given them opportunities, praised them when they succeeded, and pushed them to do better when they failed.

Mustang was supposed to be _safe, older-protector, play-fighting but safe,_ **_safe._ **

Mustang, who _hit_ Ed. Who _killed_ Ross.

He was talking to some unfamiliar ranked officer, completely ignoring the Elrics while they sat side-by-side and drowned in the fury and grief of losing someone, _again_.

Ed’s hackles were still raised, his fists still clenched, his tail still lashing. He stared at Mustang’s back like he was a different person, because he might as well have been.

_Liar, killer, danger. Protector? Enemy?_

Ed didn’t know what to think anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so far with this fic i have only been posting chapters upon the completion of the following one, but not this time. i've been updating pretty rapidly but this might be where things start to slow down. i don't know for sure -- the way i write is so disorganized that really anything could happen. thanks for sticking with me this far tho i really appreciate it <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a short chapter, but chapter 20 is gonna be a long one when it's finished. enjoy miserable desert ed in the meantime! (also happy 4/13 lol)

Desert heat was no joke.

Ed was sweating through his clothes. His fur was uncomfortably damp and his automail ports were throbbing with heat; the pain was low compared to some of the other things he’d experienced, but the sheer pervasiveness of the discomfort was getting to him.

Damn that fucking awful Colonel for sending him out here. Damn Armstrong for picking him up like luggage (Armstrong was _older-stronger-respected_ so Ed’s body had just instinctively gone limp the moment he was lifted off his feet) and dragging him out to the desert. Damn Ling for running off that night with fucking Barry the murderhobo, of all people. Damn Ed himself for getting caught up in this brouhaha.

He had mentally cursed out pretty much every person he knew and then some by the time they reached the edge of the Xerxes ruins. Seeing the pillars and crumbled stone structures rising out of the sand had excited him from a distance, but he found that he was too hot and sweaty and exhausted to maintain his curiosity as they began to pick their way through the debris.

“There’s a working fountain just over here,” said Han, their guide. Ed’s ears pricked up under the hood of his cloak.

Sure enough, there was a circular well-like structure coming into view, and it looked like all the rubble in the immediate vicinity had been cleared away from it. Ed scrambled off his horse the moment they came to a stop and yanked his cloak off as he ran up to the fountain. When he plunged his searing automail arm into the water, there was a faint hissing sound as the hot metal came in contact with the water. He leaned heavily on the wall of the fountain, letting the surprisingly cool water lap at the edges of his port and soothe his burning skin. He breathed out a relieved sigh and splashed some of the water on his face as well, hoping to wash away the grimy feeling of sweat and sand clinging to his skin.

“Are you alright, Edward?” Armstrong called from where he was dismounting his own horse.

“Yeah, I’m fine. My automail was burning me a little but the water’s helping. Give me a couple minutes.”

While the others filled their canteens and let the horses drink, Ed rolled up his pant leg to cool his other automail limb in the water as well. It was a nice reprieve, but his shirt was still sticking uncomfortably to his back. He would probably just have to put up with it until they got back to civilization and he could have a proper bath. When that would be, Ed did not know -- no one had told him anything about why they were out here. Not Armstrong, not Breda, and certainly not Han.

After a few minutes of resting, Ed and Armstrong and Breda pushed deeper into the ruins on foot, leaving Han with the horses at the fountain.

For the most part, there was nothing to see except crumbled stone structures and hardy desert plants growing up through the dirty and cracked foundations. Ed glanced around and tried to imagine what this place would have looked like back in Xerxes’ days of glory. It had been one of the first alchemical powers of the world, with advancements in science and medicine that far surpassed the other civilizations of the time. It came up a lot in famous alchemical texts, and they always mentioned that the reason it fell was lost to history. The legend was that everyone in the entire kingdom had died mysteriously in a single night, but Ed didn’t believe such a vague tale. It was likely just a plague that spread too quickly for even Xerxian medicine to suppress.

Still, Xerxes had been home to hundreds of thousands of people, and thinking about how old this place was, how long ago people had walked in his exact footsteps, people with an entirely different culture, different experience, different perspective that he would never get to know… It was a little dizzying.

Ed paused to look at a wall that was still mostly standing, and it had what looked like a huge transmutation circle inscribed on it. It only looked like alchemy at a glance, which is how it caught his eye, but the longer he looked at it, the more he realized that he didn’t recognize most of the symbols at all. If this was a transmutation circle, it was too outdated or arcane for Ed to read what its purpose was. The top half of the wall was missing, anyway, so the array was incomplete.

Breda called for him to stop dallying, so Ed ran to catch up. They crested a small hill, and Ed looked out over the ruins; they seemed to go on for miles.

A small sound caught Ed’s attention. His ear swivelled towards it, the rest of his head following a second later. He saw a few loose pebbles cascading down a pile of rubble. Then, he saw _her._

He had to blink for a moment, eyes adjusting as the bright desert sun reflecting harshly off the bleached white stone, but then her silhouette resolved itself and it was undoubtedly, without question, Maria Ross who stood at the top of the rubble pile.

The last time Ed had seen her alive was when she ran off into the night wearing drab prison linens. There’d been an explosion of light and heat, and when he’d tried to chase her he’d instead found Mustang standing over a body burnt into an unrecognizable heap. He hadn’t seen her die with his own eyes, but under the circumstances, what else could Ed have believed?

His throat was dry.

“LIEUTENANT ROSS!” Armstrong’s voice boomed, causing Ed to wince.

“Major Armstrong! Edward!” Ross called, skidding down the rubble to join the group.

“Oh, how joyous my heart is to see you unharmed!” Armstrong cried, flinging his arms open for an embrace. Ross grew a fearful look on her face and managed to duck under Armstrong’s crushing grip before he could snare her, and she hid behind Breda for safety.

“It’s good to see you too, Major,” she said with a nervous chuckle.

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” Ed managed to say, taking a step towards her. He held out his hand to her, and she smiled as she accepted the handshake. He just wanted to touch her, to make sure she was real. Her grip was firm and reassuring.

“Me neither, to be honest,” Ross joked weakly. “I suppose I have Colonel Mustang to thank for that.”

Ed’s ears pinned back at Mustang’s name.

“I’ll be sure to give him your gratitude,” said Breda, nodding. Normally Ed had nothing against Breda, but in that moment, spite and distrust flickered in his chest. Breda was still _Mustang’s,_ and _Mustang_ had a lot of fucking explaining to do.

“What happened there, anyway?” Ed asked, directing the question at Ross. He didn’t quite manage to keep the growl out of his voice. “I thought that bastard had toasted you to a crisp to satisfy his own selfish revenge. Now you’re telling me he’s the reason you’re alive?”

“He knew you would be angry,” Breda told him, before Ross could answer. “Said that you would need to see for yourself that she was alive, or else you wouldn’t believe it.”

Ed took a few heavy breaths in through his nose, his relief that Ross was alive grappling with his hatred for Mustang for deceiving him again. For making Ed think that she was gone, and then shoving her back in his face to prove how _good_ and _clever_ he was. _“See, Fullmetal? You had no reason to be angry with me in the first place. All is well,”_ Mustang’s imaginary voice wafted through Ed’s mind. He could just imagine the look on the smug fucker’s face.

Ed remembered how cold Mustang’s eyes had been that night, the sharp sting of the rough ignition cloth glove against his cheek. Ross may still be alive, but Ed had not forgiven him.

Ross went on to describe the events of her arrest, the jailbreak (finding out that Ling had apparently been _in jail_ had made Ed snort -- he allowed himself to find it funny only because he knew Ling had gotten away in the end) and her encounter with Mustang. It was there that she hesitated, and looked around at the group.

“You know that I didn’t really do it, right?” she asked, shoulders hunched. “I could never do something like that. Kill a fellow officer… Especially not Hughes.”

“We know,” Armstrong said gently, putting a hand on her back. She smiled at him gratefully. Ed clenched his fists.

“Yeah, you don’t have to convince us,” Ed agreed. The guilt that had been brewing in his stomach since he found out about Hughes’ death was bubbling to the surface. “If anything, it was… It was me.”

Everyone looked at him in surprise. “Edward… What do you mean?” Ross asked.

“It’s true,” Ed insisted, head bowed. He hadn’t been able to say it out loud in front of Gracia or Nina, and not Winry either because she was already upset with him about something else, but he couldn’t keep this locked away in his heart anymore. “If Hughes hadn’t gotten involved with the fifth lab investigation, if I hadn’t asked him to help, then maybe he… he’d still be…”

Ed felt the broad hand of Major Armstrong land gently on his shoulder. His first instinct was relief, _comfort, petting,_ but then he belatedly thought he should shrug the hand away. He was stronger than that, he didn’t need Armstrong’s pity.

“It isn’t your fault, Edward,” said Armstong, and the kindness in his voice was what caused Ed to pull away from the man’s touch.

Ed couldn’t stand the feeling of everyone looking at him. Clearly this was the wrong company to have admitted this weight to. He had to change the subject. “So, _I_ know that you’re innocent,” Ed stated, addressing Ross. “But why did Colonel smugass? I hadn’t told him anything about the fifth lab.”

“I don’t know exactly,” Ross admitted. “Everything happened so fast, we didn’t have much time to talk at all. But he did tell me something that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since. He said, ‘Hughes is still alive.’ I can’t get my head around it.”

Ed sharply sucked in a breath. “Still alive? How is that possible? There was -- there was a funeral, wasn’t there? They had his body -- someone must have seen his body -- Major, you at least must have, right?”

To Ed’s dismay, Armstrong hesitated. “Not personally, no, but they did confirm his identity. At least, that’s what Colonel Douglas told me…”

“Who’s Colonel Douglas?” Ed asked.

“He was in charge of the Hughes murder case,” Ross explained, her voice tight. “He’s also the one who arrested me.”

“So if Hughes really is still alive, he’s got to be involved in covering it up,” Ed hypothesized. He glanced at Armstrong. “He must work for the homunculi.”

“Homunculi?” Armstrong repeated, eyes widening.

Ed nodded grimly, and explained everything he’d learned from Greed, and his theory about how the homunculi were involved with the military. Catching him up took some time, and when he finished, the four of them sat in silence as the implications of such a conspiracy sank in.

“And you haven’t told Colonel Mustang about this?” Armstrong asked, voice low.

Ed glared at the ground, ears flat. “No.”

“You don’t need to,” Breda said, causing Ed to glare at _him_ instead. “We knew most of that stuff anyway, except the bit about homunculi. I don’t fully understand it myself, but I’m not an alchemist. I’m sure the Colonel will make something of it.”

“Fuck that guy, I’m not working with him on this,” Ed spat, causing Breda to raise an eyebrow at him.

Ed’s tail flicked back and forth and he crossed his arms, staring at the ground. “How am I supposed to trust anything he says? He keeps _lying,_ and puppetting me around, and I’m _sick_ of it!”

“You don’t have to like him, Ed, but he’s your commanding officer,” said Breda with a smile. “You’ve been on our team for three years, aren’t you used to his machinations by now?”

“He crossed a line this time,” Ed growled.

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” Breda deadpanned.

Ed wanted to tell Breda to fuck off, but he wasn’t about to lose his temper any more than he already had. Instead he just stood up and walked away from the group, tail still flicking in agitation. He heard Ross call his name, but he didn’t turn back. He needed some space.

After encountering some Ishvalan refugees and learning some troubling information about Scar and Winry’s parents, Ed finally headed back to his group. Their plan was to camp in the ruins overnight, then set out again just before dawn in two different directions. Ross would follow Fu (Fu had helped Ross cross the desert this far, which made Ed bitterly wonder if Ling was in Mustang’s pocket now too) east towards Xing, while Ed, Armstrong, and Breda would head west back to Amestris with Han.

Ed wasn’t sure what he expected to find when he got there. The weight of everything he’d learned and the turmoil of how he felt about it all was almost enough to distract him from the sweat on his back and the hot metal burning his scars.

He just wanted to see Al again.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for gore/body horror in this chapter :x gotta love homunculus regeneration, lol

With Fullmetal and Armstrong safely in the desert and therefore out of the line of fire, it was time for Roy to crack down on this fifth laboratory business.

The mission to lure out the people involved had started out just like he planned. It was only when “Elizabeth” dropped the phone and Roy could hear only gunshots that he realized things were going south. He knew he should have stayed in his office like he was supposed to, but he just couldn’t ignore the way his heart had hammered when Riza stopped responding. He needed to get to her, to make sure she was okay -- he _couldn’t_ lose her too.

Luckily he made it just in time to save Hawkeye and Fuery from the massive, slobbering man that had been threatening them.

As they were getting in Roy’s car to follow Barry, he heard the familiar clanking of Alphonse and turned to see the younger Elric brother running up to him.

“Are you going after the Lt. Colonel’s killer?” Al asked urgently.

Roy paused, running the math in his head. Clearly that Yao kid had done his job and filled Al in on the Maria Ross situation. Would Al be a help or a hindrance to this mission? His experience with the fifth lab would be useful -- he might be able to identify people involved. He was more than capable as a fighter, Roy knew that. After only a few seconds of deliberation, he came to the conclusion that he really had nothing to lose by letting Al help.

“You in?” Roy asked.

“Yeah,” Al replied, with feeling, and he crammed his bulky armor into the back of Roy’s car with Havoc.

As they followed Barry, who was following what he claimed to be his original body, Al explained how the man Hawkeye had fought in the tower was likely a homunculus. Roy didn’t want to believe it -- he had heard of homunculi, of course, but they were supposed to be purely theoretical. No one in recorded history had successfully managed to create one; that was what every book and resource on the subject had to say about it, at least.

“Brother and I think the homunculi must be the ones pulling the strings behind the fifth laboratory,” Al said. “We suspect they had a hand in the chimera lab as well, since Greed had chimera friends and we know the fifth lab and the chimera lab are linked.”

“Woah, woah,” Roy said, glancing at Al in his rearview mirror. “Chimera lab? What chimera lab?”

“Oh, right.” Al shifted uncomfortably in the small space he had. “Um, the chimera lab is -- or was, we don’t know if it’s still operational -- where chimera soldiers were created with the use of philosopher’s stones that were made in the fifth lab.”

Roy’s mind flashed to Shou Tucker, to the research notes he’d slipped out of Tucker’s lab and had been slowly decoding over the past months. If there was a chimera lab, it could possibly hold more information that could be used to get Fullmetal back to normal. Roy gripped his steering wheel a little harder at the prospect of it.

“Good to know,” he muttered. Disgust and hope battled for dominance in his voice.

The car weaved between buildings, closer to a main street now. Roy recognized the building they were coming up on, it was the third laboratory. When Barry’s feral body raced inside, it was another point of proof adding up to the military being responsible for all this.

 _What if Hughes is in there, right now?_ Roy thought. His heart thudded loudly in his ears. He spent a lot of time, late at night, thinking about what he would do or say when he rescued Hughes. The idea that _this might be it_ was making him jittery, because he had never fully decided. What _would_ he do? What _should_ he say? He could tell Hawkeye noticed his nerves (she gave him a sideways look when he took a deep, controlled breath) but she didn’t comment, for which he was grateful.

Barry charging in without heed gave Roy and his team the perfect excuse to get inside. He loved loose cannons, because they would do what he wanted without making him responsible for their actions. Anticipation thrummed in his chest as they stormed the lab with probable cause.

Havoc, Hawkeye, Al, and Roy chased Barry into the bowels of the lab, where a split tunnel forced them to separate. Roy instinctively wanted Hawkeye at his side, but when their eyes met he knew he had to let her go with Al. After all, if anything bad happened to the younger Elric, Fullmetal would come down on Roy with the fury of a hundred suns, and Roy knew it. He could entrust Al’s safety to Hawkeye. So he nodded to her, and she nodded back, understanding him without the need for words, and he went with Havoc.

Roy had been to the third lab a handful of times before, but he had never seen this place. It was unlit and dreary, and it looked like a tornado had blown through it. There were rooms with barred cell-style doors broken off their hinges, metal twisted and bent from some incredible force. Roy felt a chill on his spine, but he forced himself not to shiver. In one of the rooms, there were medical-looking instruments on a table, dusty but still sharp. Roy wondered grimly what sort of alchemy experiments required scalpels and syringes.

A low woman’s voice drifted through the room, causing Roy and Havoc to jerk towards the source. “It’s good to see you again, Jean.”

Standing in the shadows was a woman with flawless pale skin and voluptuous black curls that spilled down her shoulders and back. She wore elbow-length gloves and a long, strapless dress with a low neckline that showed off a red tattoo on her chest: a winged serpent devouring its own tail -- the ouroboros.

“Solaris?” Havoc said, lowering his shotgun in surprise.

“You know this woman?” Roy demanded, pistol trained on her chest.

“Dammit, yeah. She’s the girl I was telling you about, but I swear I didn’t know--”

Roy cut him off to ask, “Have you given her any information?”

“No way, sir,” Havoc said, raising his gun again. “I never talk about work on a date.”

The woman Havoc called Solaris pursed her darkly painted lips and tilted her chin up slightly. “It’s true. Do you always leave a woman so _unsatisfied,_ Jean?”

Roy heard Havoc splutter, but he refused to take his eyes off her. “Nevermind that,” he said, tense. “Who are you? You’re one of the people from the fifth laboratory, right? Tell me what you know about Brigadier-General Hughes.”

Solaris raised an eyebrow, and her lips curled up in a smile. “You ask an awful lot of questions, Colonel. So _authoritative._ Men always think they’re the ones in charge.”

Roy’s grip on his gun tightened. “Get on the ground and tell us what you know,” he commanded. “Or I’ll shoot.”

Solaris chuckled with her closed-mouth smile, and stepped out of the shadowy corner. Her eyes glimmered in the dim light, and Roy would swear they looked utterly inhuman, violet and slit-pupiled. “And what will you do with me once you have me on my knees?” she purred.

If she was trying to throw him off, it wasn’t going to work; Roy had grown up surrounded by raunchy women. He wasn’t so easily flustered. Carefully controlling himself, he aimed his gun and fired once into her thigh. The crack of the shot echoed around the underground room. She gasped in pain and staggered, but stayed on her feet.

“I said, on the ground,” he repeated, raising his voice. “Tell me what you did with Hughes!”

Red sparks flared up around the bleeding hole in Solaris’ leg, and Roy watched in disturbed fascination as the bullet pushed itself back out and clinked to the floor. The flesh knitted itself back together behind it, leaving a blood-soaked hole in the fabric of her dress and no scar or mark on the skin whatsoever when the sparks faded.

“You’re going to have to give it to me harder than that,” she mocked, voice syrupy with derision.

“You’re not human, are you,” Roy observed. “You’re a homunculus. A monster."

Solaris hugged her arms around her chest and tilted her chin down slightly so that she could look up at Roy through her thick eyelashes, lips pouting. “I do have feelings, you know. I may be a homunculus, but I’m also a woman -- a woman with wants and needs. I have a heart that bleeds the same as yours, Colonel.”

“We’re going to find out exactly how your heart bleeds if you don’t give me some answers,” Roy threatened.

She tossed her head back and laughed, unfolding her arms as she did. Then she looked at Roy, and he watched in alarm as the fingers of her right hand extended to a foot in length, the tips wickedly sharp. Her eyes glimmered. “I think I’ve had enough foreplay,” she said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

As soon as she tensed to move, Roy unloaded his clip into her. His arm jerked with the recoil of each shot, just as her body jerked with each impact. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears as he continued to fire; all he knew was that he didn’t want her deathtrap fingers anywhere near him. After five shots, his gun clicked, the chamber empty.

Blood splattered the floor from hole after hole torn through Solaris’ body. The first shot had grazed her shoulder, but he’d hit her in the skull once, and three times in the torso. She didn't, however, fall. She swayed, staggered a step to the left, and then more of those red sparks began to flicker around the bullet wounds. Blood trickled down her face, and she licked some of it off her upper lip as she raised her head.

“If you think--” she began to say, but was cut off by a blast from Havoc’s shotgun. She was thrown backwards by the force, back slamming into the wall. Blood and viscera poured out of her head, the right eye socket blown completely open in a nightmarish sight.

Roy quickly holstered his gun and tugged his ignition gloves tighter as even bigger, brighter sparks flared around Solaris’ destroyed head. He watched, hand extended and fingers poised to snap as bone materialized out of nothing, reforming her skull. Muscle followed, as did skin, and the expression carried by her freshly-healed face was not the same playfully provocative one as before. She was scowling now.

Before Roy could react, she lunged.

~~~

When Hohenheim first heard of the child state alchemist, he had dismissed it. Humans were prone to exaggeration -- “child” probably just meant 18, certified before enlisting. He wasn’t one to gossip, and if what he thought was happening in this country _was_ happening, then he was better to avoid state alchemists altogether.

The first time he had heard of “the famous Elric Brothers,” he had read about it in the newspaper. He hardly ever gave himself enough time to luxuriate in towns or cities long enough to gather news, but it had been days since he’d eaten, and hundreds of souls were clamouring for him to feed himself. So he’d stopped at a little tea shop in the small West Area town, picked up a news page from the counter, and settled down to read it with a sandwich and a cup of tea. There had been a small article that mentioned the exploits of a pair of brothers called Elric in the eastern city of Liore.

It was probably a coincidence. Amestris wasn't a very large country, at least not compared to other places Hohenheim had been, but there had to be other Elrics living there. Edward and Alphonse were too young to be gallivanting about. Hohenheim had a tendency to lose track of time -- he had lived for so long that minutes blended into hours and months blended into years so easily without him noticing -- but his sons couldn't be older than nine or ten. Although, the more the thought about it, the less he was sure.

What year had Edward been born, again? Hohenheim couldn't remember.

Regardless, the boys were waiting for him in Resembool, with Trisha. That's what Hohenheim believed. It was that belief that kept him moving forward, that kept him getting up each morning and facing the sunrise with determination. He had a family waiting for him, and he could not let them down.

His travels had finally brought him back to the East Area, and his lonely heart ached to see Trisha again. He could afford a small detour, just a day or two, before he had to continue.

When he returned to Resembool, he climbed the hill and found that his home was no longer there. Where once stood a lovely white cottage there was burnt piles of wood, scorched by fire and rotted by rain. Hohenheim stood at the entrance, where the door should be, and stepped over the threshold. Broken glass crunched under his boot. He looked down, and then out, across the carnage. His throat felt tight, and something icy was forming in his heart. They weren’t here.

After staring for a few minutes at the wreckage of the life he hadn’t deserved, Hohenheim turned and headed for Pinako’s house. If she wasn’t there either, he… well, he would be very disappointed and sad.

Luckily, the Rockbell house was still standing, and Pinako even answered the door when he knocked, though she looked older than the last time he’d seen her, more lines on her face. She looked him up and down and said, “Oh. It’s you. Well, come in, I guess.”

Her house was the same as he remembered it, though there were more photographs on the corkboard now. Hohenheim removed his shoes and set down his suitcase by the door. Pinako poured him a whiskey and he accepted it gratefully as he sat at her table.

“Do you realize how long you’ve been gone?” Pinako asked pointedly. He could feel her scrutinizing him, as keen now as she had been when they first met.

Hohenheim stared at the whiskey in his glass. There was no ice in it. “I know it’s been years…”

“Ten years, Hohenheim,” Pinako stated, picking up her own glass. “You’ve missed a lot.”

“Where is Trisha?” he asked, unable to hold it in any longer. “Where are our sons? Here?”

Pinako took a sip of whiskey, and each second before her answer felt like an eternity. “Trisha’s gone, and the boys are alright, but they aren’t here,” she said, her voice losing some of its edge.

The word _gone_ echoed in Hohenheim’s brain, repeating and overlapping until it was nothing but a crescendo of noise. “Trisha is…” He could hardly hear himself speak for the loudness in his skull, in his soul.

“It was not even a year after you left that she passed away,” Pinako said, confirming Hohenheim’s fear. “She was very ill, but no one knew. She’d hidden it from everyone; a misguided attempt to be brave.”

Hohenheim curled around his untouched drink, feeling the pressure mounting behind his eyes. She’d been dead the whole time he was gone. Imagining her smiling face had been the thing pushing him forward, the thought of her running to meet him when he returned… but that would never happen, now.

He’d gone and done it again: he outlived yet another person who deserved more time.

In his long, long life he had watched so many people die. Old age, accidents, injury, disease. Death came to all humans, whether they deserved it or not, and it was this realization that had drawn him to the conclusion that he wasn't human himself.

He knew when he’d started this family that they would all die eventually. It had been fear of this fact that had prevented him from loving anyone too deeply, before Trisha. That fear ate away at his mind for the longest time, from the moment Trisha first told him she loved him to the days their sons were born to the years afterward. He had known it, but it didn’t make the impact any less severe. His worst fear had come true.

 _At least the boys are okay,_ a voice whispered in his mind.

 _But for how long?_ whispered another.

He couldn't tell whether the thoughts came from himself, or someone else. The other souls were huddled close to his mind, drowning him in their pain and sorrow and hope and grief.

"You told me once that a family was the one thing you had always wanted," Pinako said, voice even. “I won’t ask you why you left, but I will ask you this: was it worth it?"

The question felt like a blow to Hohenheim’s ribcage. Pinako had always had such a way of digging into people, and he was not an exception. Perhaps it came from being an automail surgeon; she was uncannily good at finding the most sensitive nerves.

“I don’t know, yet,” he replied lamely. His throat closed up after the words, preventing him from any excuses or explanations.

A warm tear trickled down Hohenheim’s face. If he hadn’t spent the last ten years away from his family, then maybe his family would still be here. In that scenario, there would be no one to stop the Homunculus from claiming Amestris for himself. In that scenario, Hohenheim would lose his family anyway, and history would repeat itself. He didn’t know if he would survive such a calamity, but it was possible that he would, and Hohenheim couldn’t stand the thought of that, of being the only survivor, _again._ Of having to walk away from an empty world, _again._

With a few deep breaths, he managed to stop crying. The grief was still heavy in his body, and he could feel the other souls grieving along with him. He lifted his head, downed the glass of whiskey in one burning gulp, and looked at Pinako. She was watching him in that guarded but knowing way that she had.

“Where are Edward and Alphonse?” he asked. “What happened to the house?”

Pinako pursed her lips, and then sighed. “The boys missed their mother terribly. I took them in, looked after them, but they’ve always been a little… distant. I had no idea what they were up to, but… They tried to bring her back, with alchemy. When it didn’t work, they burned down the house and left the village. Ed’s a state alchemist now.”

So the child state alchemist was his son after all. Hohenheim’s jaw tightened. In his many years of studying alchemy, he had of course come across a few cases of human transmutation. They were never good.

“What did they lose?” he asked, dread and curiosity forming a foul stew in his stomach along with the whiskey.

Pinako hesitated, then sipped her drink again and replied, “They lost flesh. Lots of it, between the two of them. Ed has automail, and Al… Well, let’s just say you’d hardly recognize him.”

Hohenheim nodded slowly. “Is Trisha buried here, in town?” he asked.

“She is.” Pinako set her glass down. “Would you like some company?”

Hohenheim shook his head and stood up, taking his jacket off the back of the chair. “No, that’s alright. I’ll be back for another drink in a bit. Thank you, Pinako, for looking after them.”

Pinako harrumphed. “Don’t thank me for doing your damn job for you. You should really stay for them. God knows those boys need a little guidance.”

Hohenheim shrugged his jacket on. “If only it were that easy,” he said regretfully, heading for the door.

~~~

Pain lanced through Roy’s body with every laboured breath. He was laying on the damp stone, pieces of debris digging into his back and warm, sluggish blood was pooling out of his side where Solaris had ran him through on her lance-like fingers. He turned his head to look at Havoc, facedown in his own slowly growing pool of blood. Still unresponsive.

The soft click of Solaris’ heels on the stone drew Roy’s bleary gaze to where she was now bending down towards him. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and she lifted his arm, causing him to groan in pain as the nerves around his wound lit up with the movement. Roy was aware of the homunculus gently removing his glove, one finger at a time, but he couldn’t focus.

“Your life ends here, Mustang,” Solaris said huskily. “A shame, since you were a prime candidate for sacrifice, and we even went out of our way to keep your friend alive for you.”

 _That_ grabbed Roy’s attention. He felt his mind sharpen, heart beating faster as he zeroed in on her face. “Hughes,” he gritted out between his teeth.

Solaris smiled, but it wasn’t gentle, or even playful. It was cold, uncaring. The smile of someone only pretending to be human. “He’ll be dead by tonight, of course, since we have no use for him without you. Think about that as you watch poor Jean bleed out, and then you can die too.”

She straightened up, both his gloves in her hand, and shredded the tough material like it was cheap cotton. She let the ribbons of cloth flutter down to the ground beside Roy, stepped daintily over his prone body, and left. He kept sucking in breaths, trying to stop the room from tilting wilding around him.

Havoc was dying. _He_ was dying. Hughes was alive. Hughes wouldn’t be alive much longer if he died.

He needed to stop the bleeding. He needed flame -- he needed a transmutation circle.

Roy rolled his head to the other side, and spotted a scalpel abandoned on the floor a few feet away. Gritting his teeth to brace for the pain of moving, he groped towards it, and his shaking fingers closed around the instrument. A carving would be much harder to destroy than a drawing.

 _Hold on, Havoc,_ Roy thought to himself as he groped for the abandoned, damaged lighter. _Hold on, Hughes. I’ll save you. Both of you. I will._

He would.

~~~

The walk to the cemetery was quiet. Except, with Hohenheim, nothing was ever really _quiet._ His soul was stirred, voices brushing against his mind, offering him condolences and silent apologies. It was a strange contradiction, how he was simultaneously the most and least lonely person in the world.

When he found Trisha’s grave, he put his hands in his pockets and stood there staring at the headstone as dreamy memories spun through his mind. The first time he’d met Trisha, eighteen and naive but hopeful, she’d wanted to be his friend, and he had allowed it.

He remembered being eighteen, back when he was just one soul in a body hardened by labour and one mind dreaming of the family he might one day have. Trisha had confessed to a similar dream. Hohenheim told her she should not look to him for such a thing. He left, and when he came back a few years later, she was still there, waiting for him. The way he’d felt with her had made him think that the many years of sorrow and watching humanity slip him by had been building up to this, his life with her, their family. All said, their time together had been unbearably short in the grand scheme of his life.

Standing there in contemplation, time passed Hohenheim by, as it often did. The light breeze tousled his hair and caressed his cheeks with all the gentleness that Trisha once had. This country had made her, it was as much a part of her as she was of it. Hohenheim breathed the clean air here and knew that this was the air that had raised her into the woman she’d been, the woman he’d loved.

When the faint footfalls finally roused him from his mind, the setting sun had begun to kiss the horizon. He glanced towards the sound, catching sight of golden hair and a scowling face.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Edward growled.

Hohenheim turned to face his son, and was more than a little surprised to see how much he had changed.

The boy wore all dark colours, except for the splash of red on his boots, and he had a black military-style cap on his head, with strange metal studs embedded in the fabric. Hohenheim wondered what the purpose of them was. Edward also carried himself differently -- Hohenheim remembered the way he used to stomp up and down the halls of their house with gleeful abandon, but he now had a light tread and a wary eye. His right hand gleamed silver in the fading sunlight: automail. He also appeared to have… a tail?

“Edward, you’ve... grown,” Hohenheim said, unsure whether he should call attention to anything else.

“Shut up, I asked you a question,” Ed said harshly. His tail, fluffy and striped gold, flicked slowly from side to side behind him.

“Have you been doing chimera experiments?” Hohenheim asked with a frown. That was complicated alchemy, nearly impossible to do right without a philosopher’s stone. He’d only seen one other human-animal chimera, the wolf woman he’d met in the mountains of Xing, but she’d been barely able to speak.

Edward’s lip curled, revealing a pair of pointed fangs. There was a low growl in his throat, and his eyes were narrowed and angry. He looked nothing like the little trouble-making child Hoheneim remembered. He’d been small and boisterous and Hohenheim had hardly known what to do with him. The boy in front of him now was more like a wild animal ready to defend its territory, and Hohenheim still didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t seem willing to talk about the fact that he was a chimera, so even though Hohenheim wanted to ask him more about it, he decided to try another avenue. That conversation could wait. There were other things to discuss.

“Pinako told me about what you did,” he said, voice steady. He understood the desire, the lure of power that alchemy provided. The boys had experienced loss, and humans reacted to loss in dramatic ways, sometimes. Hohenheim wasn’t angry that they had tried it. Just sad that they had felt desperate enough to do such a thing, and disappointed that they hadn’t known better.

Edward looked away, shame burning in his face. “What else were we supposed to do?” he asked bitterly. “You were gone, and then mom was gone, and Al and I… We just wanted to see her again.”

“I know.”

Edward looked back at him, eyes furious and tail swishing. “What could you _possibly_ know?” the boy spat. “Don’t act like you _know_ anything about me, you fucking bastard, you _left.”_

“You’re angry with me,” Hohenheim observed. He was… surprised. He’d had people be angry with him before, for lots of reasons, and leaving was a reoccuring one. So, all things considered, he really _shouldn’t_ have been surprised. But he was. He’d thought his family would have been happy to see him again, but things were never that simple.

“No shit.”

Hohenheim considered this angry chimera boy standing before him. This child with Hohenheim’s own blood in his veins, evident in his sun-bright Xerxian eyes, now slit-pupiled, transformed by alchemy. This was a child of many disparate pieces -- half Hohenheim’s dead culture, half Trisha’s vibrant rural one; half human, half animal; half a body, augmented by automail.

Ten years could do a lot, it seemed.

“Is that why you burned down my house?” Hohenheim asked, tring to sound stern and fatherly but unsure if he had quite hit the mark. He was upset to see it gone, because of everything it represented to him. If Edward had decided to burn his home because he was angry with his father, Hohenheim would be more than a little disappointed.

Edward looked away again, down at the ground, but his shoulders remained taut. “No. We burned it down so we couldn’t return home before we completed our goal. We want to get our bodies back to normal, and so we burned it as a symbol of our resolve.”

Hohenheim gazed out over the hills of Resembool, and he could just make out the burned, dead tree that had marked where his house had once stood, silhouetted against the orange sky.

“No, you burned it so you wouldn’t have to deal with it,” he said when he faced his son again. He had seen behaviour like this before, heard it spoken of in cross tones of exasperated parents across multiple generations, multiple countries. “Like a child who wets the bed and hides the soiled sheets to avoid getting into trouble. You didn’t want to face the consequences of your mistake. You ran away, Edward.”

As he spoke, Hohenheim watched Edward’s expression flit from denial to dread, dread to shame, and shame to anger.

“No! You’re wrong!” Edward snapped, growling loudly. “And besides, _you_ don’t get to come back here after ten years and lecture _me_ about _running away!_ You have no fucking right!”

With that outburst, Edward spun on his heel and marched away, towards Pinako’s house. Hohenheim watched him go, and was reminded that the last time he had seen his son, _he_ had been the one to turn his back and walk away.

Once Edward was out of sight, Hohenheim faced Trisha’s grave again and sighed, long and deep, and still somehow not enough to express all the sorrow that he felt.

He understood why Edward was angry. He was angry too, at himself, at the Homunculus, at the world. But he was also tired, too tired to express his anger the way Edward did, so brazen in his voice and body language.

Once he felt he’d given Edward a significant enough headstart, he turned to follow him. It was time for that second drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if i quite nailed Hohenheim's character exactly the way i wanted to but i hope what i was trying to express comes through anyway. we're gonna see more of him from Ed's perspective once i finish the next chap :3


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was rough to write. not for content reasons, more motivation-based i guess. leave a comment letting me know what you think <3 even if I don't reply i deeply appreciate every comment on this fic and they help motivate me to write more.

The sky was mostly dark by the time Ed reached Granny’s house. His skin was still itching from the unpleasant encounter with his old man. Seeing him had turned Ed’s stomach and made every little hair on his body stiffen. He was just… off-putting, in a way that went beyond Ed’s poor opinion of him.

“Hey Granny, sorry to barge in,” Ed called as he opened the door and peeked inside. “Can you put Den out back? I’m not really in the mood to be barked at.” He noticed an unfamiliar suitcase sitting just inside the door, and he scowled at it. It better not belong to Hohenheim.

Granny appeared from the kitchen, pipe in hand. “I was wondering when you’d show up,” she said, inscrutable. “That Mustang fellow gave me a call, said you’d be paying me a visit real soon. Did you know your father’s here?”

Ed’s scowl deepened and stepped fully inside, toeing off his shoes before sauntering into the kitchen. “Yeah, I saw him,” he grumbled. He noted the opened bottle of whiskey on the counter, along with two empty glasses.

Granny must have noticed him looking because she said, “I’d offer you a glass, but I don’t think you meet the height requirement, shrimp.”

Ed growled at her, because he was already in a growly sort of mood, and she wasn’t helping. “If I’m too short for it then so are you, hag.”

Granny raised an eyebrow at him, causing him to huff and avoid her eyes as he went to get a glass of his own. There was a covered pot on the stove, and a heavenly aroma was wafting out of it. 

“Are you making stew?” Ed asked as he filled his glass with water from the tap.

“Yes,” Granny replied. “What did your father say to you?” 

Ed could hear the strike of a match as she lit up her pipe. He took a long pull of water before replying; he was still simmering with hurt and anger and all the other things he associated with thinking about Hohenheim. He’d imagined plenty of reunion scenarios in the time he’d been gone, but actually talking to him had not been what Ed had expected at all. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved, or disappointed. 

“He tried to lecture me. As if I fucking care about anything  _ he _ has to say.”

There was a stifling pause between the two of them, and the acrid smell of Granny’s tobacco burned Ed’s nose. He was used to the smell, but in that moment, combined with the cacophony of his thoughts and the bright kitchen lights and the sound of Den whining at the back door, it was all too much. He felt overwhelmed in a way he wasn’t used to -- he wanted to crawl out of his skin and leave all sensation behind.

“I know you’re angry,” Granny said, stepping closer to him, bringing the terrible smoke with her. They were alone, but Ed still felt crowded. “And you have every right to be. But don’t you think--”

“Don’t defend him!” Ed snapped, whipping around to face her. His nose was burning and his chest felt tight and uncomfortable. He needed to get away, get somewhere where things weren’t  _ too much. _ He looked at Granny’s face, wrinkled and unsympathetic, and bolted from the kitchen, leaving his water on the counter.

“Ed!” Granny shouted after him.

“Leave me alone!” Ed shouted back as his footsteps pounded up the stairs. He went into his old room, slammed the door shut behind him, and leaned against it, struggling to breathe.

_ What’s wrong with me?  _ Ed wondered faintly. He pulled his hat off and slid down the door until he was sitting with his knees to his chest. He still felt crowded, like everything in the room was too close, like even the air in his lungs was an invader. His thoughts were burning, scorching things that he shied away from, not wanting to deal with the pain of examining them too closely.

Out of habit, Ed started to recite elements under his breath, trying to distract himself long enough that whatever fit he was having would calm down. 

“Hydrogen, lithium, beryllium, sodium, magnesium, potassium…”

He managed to get all the way through the elements, and by the time he was finished his breathing had evened out. He folded his arms across the tops of his knees and bent forward to rest his head on his forearms. The hard metal of his automail was cold even through his shirt.

There was a knock on the door that startled Ed into jerking his head up again.

“Ed, stew’s ready,” said Granny’s voice, muffled through the wood.

Ed’s mouth immediately began to water; Granny’s stew was the best. He picked himself up off the floor and took one final deep breath before leaving the room. Granny was already halfway down the stairs, and Ed trailed after her. He halted in his tracks when Granny entered the kitchen and Ed saw Hohenheim sitting at the table with a glass and the bottle of whiskey.

Hohenheim’s eyes caught Ed’s, and just like before, Ed felt all the hairs on his body stiffen. A growl formed low in his chest, and he pinned his ears back. There was something about him, perhaps his smell or even just his presence, that put the cat part of Ed’s brain on edge. It wasn’t like with Greed and the other chimeras, who had smelled not-human, it was more like Hohenheim smelled  _ too- _ human. Even though he didn’t move or speak particularly fast, Ed perceived him as  _ restless. _

_ Restless, power-lurking-danger, older-awful-sire. _

“Come have a seat, Ed,” invited Granny as she plucked the whiskey bottle off the table.

“Why is  _ he _ here?” Ed gritted out from between his teeth as he kneaded his left palm.

“You burned down my house, remember?” Hohenheim said, without a hint of malice.

_ “Your _ house?!” Ed repeated, seething. The idea that Hohenheim was trying to stake any claim in Ed’s life made him furious. That house had been  _ Ed’s.  _ Ed’s and Al’s and Mom’s.

“Don’t make a fuss, Edward,” warned Granny. “Can’t we have a nice dinner, like a normal family?”

Ed gestured to each person in the room. “In what fucking world is anything about this family  _ normal?”  _

Granny chuckled and pulled her pipe out of her mouth, setting it aside. “Point taken. Now, sit.”

Begrudgingly, Ed took the seat furthest from Hohenheim, and when he caught the man looking at him curiously, he pinned his ears back and fought the urge to hiss at him.

Something about Hohenheim’s eyes reminded Ed of Alphonse, back when his eyes were wide and gold instead of hollow and red, and this realization turned Ed’s gut unpleasantly. His most vivid memory of Hohenheim had always been his eyes; the pinched, closed-off expression they’d had before he turned and walked out of the brothers’ lives frequently haunted his dreams. 

The tension hanging over the dinner table was so thick it was practically a tangible thing one could reach out and touch. Ed glared at the wall until a bowl of aromatic stew was placed in front of him. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, allowing the comforting smell of seasoned beef and stewed vegetables to wash over him and ease some of the rigidness in his posture.

“Thanks, Granny,” he said, picking up his spoon for a first, mouth-watering bite. The meat was perfectly soft and the liquid itself was thick and rich. It tasted like his childhood days in Resembool.

“Yes, thank you, Pinako,” said Hohenheim, causing Ed’s ears to flick back again at the reminder of his presence.

“You’re both welcome,” Granny said dismissively as she took her own seat between them. “How was your journey, Ed?”

“Fine,” Ed mumbled around a bit of meat. “Might need you t’look at my leg. Think I got some sand in the joints.”

“Were you in the East Desert?” asked Hohenheim, noticeably interested.

Ed took another bite without answering. It wasn’t any of his fucking business, now was it.

Granny sighed heavily. “I can have a look after dinner. You should have come here  _ before _ you went into the desert, dumbass. I’m surprised you didn’t get third degree burns, walking out into the desert without taking any precautions. I’m astounded at Mustang’s irresponsibility as much as yours. Honestly!”

“What’s Mustang got to do with it?” Ed snapped, feeling that distrustful feeling bubble in his stomach at the mention of him.

“Hmph! Well, one would think he’d do a little bit of research, knowing that you’ve got automail. He shouldn’t have let you go out there without taking the proper measures.” Granny gestured with her spoon a bit, prodding the air to make her point. 

Hohenheim looked between the two of them and asked, “Who’s Mustang?”

“Oh, just another person who let me down,” Ed muttered bitterly. “You two would get along great.”

“Ed, be civil,” Granny chided.

“Trust me, Granny, this  _ is _ me being civil,” Ed shot back. 

Unable to stand the atmosphere any longer, Ed’s chair screeched as he stood up. He grasped his bowl with both hands and sauntered out of the kitchen, back towards the stairs. Granny called his name a couple times, but he determinedly ignored her. He wasn’t going to sit there and play pretend happy-family. The thought made his skin crawl, and all of a sudden reminded him of Tucker.

_ Meal-time, sad. Young-kitten-friend, bigger-older-danger, bigger-older-female; social-but-afraid. Quiet, quiet. Sneaking-in-plain-sight. Hiding-but-not.  _

Ed stopped where he was, halfway up the stairs, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. He had to grab the bannister for balance. 

That had almost felt like a memory. Alexander’s memory? Who was the person wrapped up in feelings of  _ bigger-older-female? _ She was  _ fellow-protector, carer, kitten-dam. _

Oh. Nina’s mom.

Disoriented, he dropped to one knee on the stairs, and distantly heard the clatter of a dish breaking. The smell of stew curled in his nose. 

He heard a name called, his name, one of his names, but his vision was blurry.

_ Hands grabbing, no, stay away. _ But it was just Granny, Granny was  _ safe, trusted-person,  _ her hands were rough but they were for  _ healing, patient-caring. _

He heard another name, not his name, a name that sent all kinds of  _ bad, bad, bad _ through his body.

“Hohenheim! Help me move him!”

And there was that presence, that  _ squirming, restless, too-alive, bad not-right, lurking-power-danger. _ It reached out to touch him, and he hissed and spat and wriggled away from it.  _ Stay away, stay away! _

Things were in better focus now, he could see  _ safe-trusted-elder _ Granny and  _ awful-danger-sire _ Hohenheim looking at him. He was on the stairs. He scrambled away, up to the top  _ (high-ground, safe up here) _ and stared down at them.

“Ed, what’s the matter?” Granny said. “He did this once when the dog chased him, I think it has to do with the cat. Ed?”

He swished his tail and looked at her. Right. His name was Ed.

With that thought, Ed came crashing back into himself and he sat back, realizing he’d been crouched on all fours at the top of the stairs. What the hell had just happened? He felt spooked, and he rubbed his face with his left hand, trying to ground himself in his sensations a little more.

“Sorry, I -- I don’t know what came over me,” he said, and his voice cracked.

“It’s contamination from your animal half,” Hohenheim said calmly from the stairs. “It was an imperfect transmutation, wasn’t it? You didn’t use a philosopher’s stone.”

Ed swallowed the dryness in his throat. “First of all, I didn’t do this to myself, okay? But what do you mean ‘contamination’?”

“I’m assuming your behavior becomes more animalistic due to certain triggers, right?” Hohenheim asked. “Pinako mentioned you get like that around the dog. Because the transmutation was imperfect, the cat’s mind is still fairly surface-level conscious, rather than completely subconscious. So the cat’s personality is shining through occasionally. It may happen more often when you are stressed. It’s possible that it will continue to get worse until you are more animal than human.”

Alarm shot through Ed. “What?!”

Hohenheim stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Of course, it's equally possible that you may remain as you are, an imperfect hybrid in a constant state of fluctuation between boy and beast."

“What the hell do you know, anyway?” Ed growled. “Are you some sort of expert on human chimeras?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m an expert on anything,” Hohenheim admitted. “I just have a lot of experience with various things. Can I come up to you?”

“No,” Ed immediately spat. 

Hohenheim‘s gaze prickled at Ed like he was sitting in a thornbush. “I make your cat half uneasy, don’t I? Most animals tend to give me a wide berth.”

Ed’s jaw clicked shut. He had a million questions, and twice as many insults, but he just narrowed his eyes. 

“What set you off this time?” Granny asked.

Ed furrowed his brow as he tried to think. “I remembered something. Something Alexander had experienced. I already knew some of my opinions -- and… feelings -- were tainted by him, but that was the first time I remembered something that I, Edward, hadn’t seen firsthand.”

Hohenhem’s frown deepened, and he continued to stroke his beard in an almost meditative manner. “Troubling,” he muttered, which did nothing to bolster Ed's confidence.

Of course Ed had already noticed the changes in his behaviour. The intense protectiveness he felt towards Nina, his aversion to dogs, the way he instinctively moved with a sort of delicateness that he had never possessed  _ before. _ It had always been clear that the transmutation had altered his mind, but the idea that it could be an actual problem rather than a mild quirk was -- as Hohenheim said -- troubling. Moreover, the fact that Ed had remembered something from Alexander’s life made him feel queasy.

“I wonder if Alexander is still conscious, somewhere in the back of my mind,” Ed murmured. 

The stairs creaked slightly as Hohenheim shifted his weight. “Unlikely. The human will is much stronger than that of an animal. Your mind may be influenced by what was the cat’s, but it is still  _ your _ mind, Edward. And I may...” Hohenheim hesitated, and when he finished his thought his voice was surprisingly soft. “I may be able to help.”

“I don’t want your help,” Ed said petulantly. “And it has nothing to do with my cat half.”

“Please, son, be reasonable.”

Ed bristled, and finally stood up, flicking a piece of carrot from his fallen stew off his shirt as he did. “When will you get it through your thick fucking skull that you missed your chance, Hohenheim? You don’t  _ get _ to call me ‘son’.” 

An ugly satisfaction born from resentment formed in Ed’s gut at the shock on Hohenheim’s face.

“You didn’t deserve Mom.” The words tumbled out of Ed’s mouth before he could stop them. “She was always thinking about you and talking about you, and she was so  _ sure _ , until her very last breath, that you loved her and were coming back. Al still believes that. But I don’t. Because what the fuck have you done to prove it?”

Hohenheim’s brow was furrowed. “I’m here now,” he said. “I want to--”

“Well ‘now’ is a little late,” Ed interrupted. “So why don’t you just fuck off.”

He turned and stalked away.

~~~

“You’re really not going to stay?” 

Hohenheim shook his head at Pinako. “I can’t.” He thought about the disgust in Edward’s face when he’d rebuked him. He thought about the Homunculus, plotting his schemes to end the world. There were multiple reasons he couldn’t stay.

Hohenheim’s eyes drifted to the staircase. It was late in the night, so Ed was probably asleep. Hohenheim thought about going up there, thought about standing over his son like he had when he was younger, observing the soft innocence of youth on his slack, sleeping face. 

Trisha had constantly encouraged him to hold the boys, to hug them and pat their heads and give them proper fatherly affection, but Hohenheim had always,  _ always _ hesitated. They were just so small, and fragile, and Ed was still fragile, in the way that humans are. Outfitted with metal limbs to replace the ones he’d so carelessly lost. Brought to anger and shame by mere words.

In any case, there was no way Hohenheim would be able to enter Edward’s room without alerting his keen chimera senses. It would just lead to another argument. So Hohenheim just sighed, and returned to his whiskey again. This one didn’t have ice in it either. He couldn’t bring himself to ask for some.


	22. Chapter 22

Ed couldn’t sleep.

He was restless, the back of his neck damp with sweat as he shifted around in the musty, unused sheets of his room in Granny’s house. She’d had the room set up for him and Al ever since their Mom had died, but it had seen little use, since Ed and Al had insisted on sleeping in their old house up until the night of their failed human transmutation. And then after, Ed couldn’t get up the stairs when he was in the wheelchair, so he’d been confined to the patient bed on the first floor in the months before and after his automail surgeries. Even if this room had been intended for him, he’d never stayed in it long enough to make it _his._

The crickets outside chirped a familiar lullaby. Their singing wasn’t quite loud enough to drown out the murmuring Ed could hear coming from downstairs.

Ed breathed out deeply and turned over again, tugging his blanket up close to his neck even if he did feel stuffy. The snugness of it offered some minimal amount of comfort. Still, every time he tried to close his eyes he would open them again, too uneasy with Hohenheim’s presence in the house to sleep. What _was_ he, that Ed couldn’t stand to be near him? Just a rotten father, or something else?

For that matter, what was _Ed?_

The simple answer was a chimera, of course. One part human boy, one part tomcat. How distinct were those parts, though? Could they be differentiated? Ed had been avoiding thinking about that, instead focusing on the philosopher’s stone, because that was what would fix him. Until he found out the secret of the stone, and decided he could never use one. Then he was too focused on the homunculi and the conspiracy and worrying about Al and Winry and Nina to worry about himself.

What if he was stuck like this forever?

Once created, a chimera cannot be separated again by alchemy. This was one of the things Ed had learned about biological alchemy while studying in Tucker’s library, _before._ Creating a chimera combines the bodies of two creatures, but something is always lost in the process, as is the nature of equivalent exchange. Attempts to separate chimeras have always resulted in the death of one or both creatures, and in the instance that one survives the process itself, it usually comes out horribly maimed and does not live for long. One can graft living flesh onto other living flesh, but once the graft is done there is no way to remove it without bleeding.

It was science. It made sense.

It didn’t fill Ed with any sort of hope for himself.

 _“I may be able to help,”_ Hohenheim had said.

Ed grappled with distrust and revulsion but as usual his burning need to _know_ won out. How did Hohenheim expect to help if normal alchemy couldn’t solve the problem? Did he know something that Ed didn’t?

The faint but unmistakable sound of a chuckle drifted up from downstairs. Ed couldn’t stand it anymore. He wanted to know what they were talking about. What if they were talking about him? Or Al, or Winry, or Mom? Ed hated Hohenheim, hated him for leaving, for not being what he’d expected, for sitting downstairs and chuckling with Granny like all was right with the world, but still Ed’s heart was scratching against the cage of his ribs with the desire to know what he was saying.

So Ed threw the blanket off and crept out of bed. Moving quietly was difficult to do with an automail leg but Ed was accustomed to the way it moved, and it had been even easier since Tucker’s transmutation. There was something about being _stealthy, prowling, won’t-see-me-until-it’s-too-late_ that came more naturally to him, letting him navigate through Granny’s old wooden house without so much as a creak.

He snuck downstairs and posted up just outside the dining room, where the lights were still on and voices drifted out. He pushed his back to the wall and strained his ears towards the sounds.

“...the one girl in town, Ed is really all the business we get. I’m pretty sure most of his military paycheck goes straight to us, with the sort of amounts he’s had to pay for repairs over these past years.” That was Granny. She wasn’t wrong, either.

“Why ask after my boring life, though?” Granny continued. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Ed leaned a little closer to the doorjamb, and in his eagerness, the floorboard under his left leg squeaked quietly. Ed froze, hoping that the noise would go unnoticed.

“Can I ask you a question, Pinako?”

Ed relaxed just a smidge, but continued to maintain soft breathing and a still alertness.

“Bah, I should have known you wouldn’t answer,” Granny grumbled. “Your boys inherited that pesky trait from you, I’ll have you know. Never calling, never telling me squat. Go on, then, what’s your question?”

“It has to do with what my sons transmuted.”

Ed inhaled sharply and pressed himself more firmly against the wall. Why was Hohenheim asking about what they did to Mom?

“Well… I don’t know all that much about alchemy, but I’ll try and answer as best I can,” Granny replied, but her voice was much less sure of itself than it had been a minute ago.

“Are you sure it was actually Trisha?”

“I mean… it didn’t look like her, but only because it didn’t have a human form.”

“Are you certain that was the only reason it didn’t look like her? How would you prove it was her at all?”

“What are you trying to say? That… that _thing_ they made wasn’t Trisha? That they went through so much pain and hardship for something that wasn’t even their mother?”

Ed couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. His veins felt like ice, his mind numb with just one thought.

It wasn’t her?

~~~

Hohenheim left in the morning, as streaks of sunlight filtered through the dusty window above Ed’s bed. Granny called him down to say goodbye, but Ed didn’t answer. He wasn’t going to stand there like a chump while Hohenheim left him waiting at the door. Not a second time.

He was sitting cross-legged on his bed with his notebook in front of him. He hadn’t slept a wink all night, kept up by the implications of what Hohenheim had said.

Ed’s knee bounced impatiently as he bent over his notes, one hand splaying the book open while the other was planted on his stationary knee. His notes were full of formulas, theories, things he’d learned, questions he needed answers to. After hearing what he’d heard last night and sneaking back up to his room, he’d pored over the whole book, scratching things out, rewriting things, and generally re-framing his entire understanding of human transmutation.

A lot of his notes were dedicated to human transmutation. Those notes he coded twice over -- once in the code he and Al shared, and once in his own personal code that he had never shown Al.

It was supposed to be in the name of getting Al’s body back. Human transmutation was what had caused him to lose it, after all, so it was only logical that studying it further would eventually lead to insight on how to get it back. That was Ed’s justification for it, but there was a sick, guilty feeling in his gut because he hadn’t really let go of the idea of getting their mom back, even after their failure. He’d said it over and over, to Al, to Rose, to Nina: _the dead don’t come back to life._

Still, there was a sliver inside of him that always whispered _but what if…_

Ed read the words on the page in front of him again. Broke down the code, understood their meaning. Then he read it again. The meaning didn’t change, and neither did his understanding. He just wanted to _know,_ either way. Was it possible, and he was just missing something? Or was it never possible, and he really had been a fool to think otherwise? Both of those options were torturous in their own ways.

Eventually Granny called him again, and this time he flipped his notebook shut and went downstairs.

“I made sausage,” Granny said curtly as he entered the kitchen. “I assume you’re leaving soon yourself?”

Ed took the plate of sausage and toast that Granny held out to him and sat down. “Yeah. Tomorrow morning, probably. There’s something I want to do first. Will you help me?”

Granny leveled him with an evaluating look, mouth pursed. “Only if you drink your milk, peewee.”

Ed scowled and flicked his tail at her. “I don’t need your help _that_ badly, crone.”

“What do you want to do?” Granny asked as she opened the fridge.

“I want to dig up the thing we made.”

The refrigerator door slammed shut, and Ed flinched at the noise. He pinned his ears back and didn’t look at Granny, even though her stunned silence demanded his attention.

“You were eavesdropping, weren’t you?” Granny accused when she found her voice.

“I just need to know if it really was her,” Ed replied quietly. He lowered his head, gripping the fork in his hand tightly. “I’m so sick and tired of not having the full picture. It’s like, once I think I understand, the rug gets pulled out from under me and it turns out everything I thought I knew was wrong. I don’t want to have to _wonder.”_

“You alchemist types are all the same,” Granny grumbled. When Ed glanced at her, she was rummaging through the fridge again. She withdrew with a bottle of milk in her hand, but after what he had just asked her to do, Ed couldn’t bring himself to complain.

“Will you help me? It’s going to rain, and I don’t want to be slogging around in the mud longer than I have to.”

Granny set the bottle of milk in front of Ed with more force than necessary. She was frowning at him, but he refused to let himself feel cowed by her disapproval.

“I don’t agree with going around digging up past mistakes,” she said. “But I know nothing I say will change your mind. If you think I’m going to let you go up there and do such a wretched thing by yourself then you really _don’t_ know anything.”

Ed felt a small twitch of a smile. “Thanks, Granny.”

“Drink your milk.”

~~~

The familiar swaying and rattling of the train car was enough to lull Ed to sleep. He was bone-tired, muscles still aching from the hours he’d spent with Granny digging near the burned wreckage of his old house. That excursion had left him soaking wet and lightheaded, with an acidic taste in his throat and blisters on his hand that would probably take another day or two to heal. It had taken him forty-five minutes to pick all the mud out of his tail fur, and another half an hour to scrub the smell of death and decay out of his skin. It was messy business.

Ed hadn’t slept that night, kept awake by overactive thoughts and the lingering scent of rot, making it forty-eight hours since he’d slept at all by the time he boarded the train back to Central. It was no wonder he was asleep within the first ten minutes of the ride.

Waking up to the blast of the whistle and the conductor announcing they’d arrived at Central station jarred Ed at first, but the spike of adrenaline was just what he needed. It spurred him out of his seat and onto the platform, filled with a renewed sense of determination.

He wasn’t going to stop moving. He was going to get Al’s body back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of a short chapter this time. i've been watching brotherhood with my friend who's never seen it before and we're all the way at the briggs arc, so it's been throwing me off writing-wise to have to go back and forth between where i am in this fic vs where i am with my friend lmao... also i wanted to try and move away from doing shot-for-shot scenes from the show unless something significant changes which is why i didn't actually write the scene of ed digging up "trisha 2.0" 
> 
> as always comments are greatly appreciated!! thanks for reading


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i reread this any more my eyes will fall out

When Ed pushed open the door to the hotel room, he was ready to collapse onto a bed and sleep the rest of the day away. He did not expect to see Ling and Lan Fan in his room, stuffing their faces. He also didn’t expect to see Al in such a banged up state -- one of his arms was missing, and there were deep, claw-like gouges in his shoulder and jaw.

“Oh, hi Edward!” Ling said cheerfully, raising his chopsticks in greeting. “Good to see you again.”

“I’m not in the mood for you. Get out,” Ed ordered, dropping his suitcase. “Al, what happened?”

“You should not speak to the prince in such a way,” Lan Fan scolded. Neither of them made a move to stand up.

Frustrated, Ed stomped over to them and knocked their heads together. “I SAID, GET OUT!”

“Ow!” Ling rubbed his head and crawled away from Ed on his knees. “Okay, sheesh, we’re going. See you later, then!”

Ed harrumphed as he watched the foreigners leave, then promptly turned to Al, his anger melting into concern.

Apparently, while Ed had been boiling alive in the desert, Al had gotten mixed up in some things in Central. Relieved to see his brother again and glad that he was alive -- if not in one piece -- Ed sat and listened to Al describe the battle with Lust in the tunnels beneath the third laboratory.

When he got to the part where Mustang burned her to death, Ed felt his fur prickle slightly.

_Killer._

But Ed knew that about Mustang already, even before the Maria Ross incident. Had known that, and worked with him anyway. Ed had just been refusing to look at it directly. Of course he was a killer. He was a _soldier._

Hell, _Ed_ was a soldier. He was still waiting for the day they would ask him to become a killer, too.

“Jeez, I can’t leave you alone, can I,” Ed muttered when Al finished telling his story. He wished he’d been there, so that Al hadn’t had to face the danger by himself.

“Sorry, but the action doesn’t stop just because you’re not around,” Al said with a chuckle. “How was the east?”

“Hot, full of sand.” Ed shrugged. He didn’t want to betray the turmoil of thoughts and feelings going on in the back of his head. “You know, like a desert. Where’s Winry?”

“She’s in her room next door. Would you mind fixing me up first before you go and say hi to her?”

Ed glared at Al, offended. “I wasn’t just going to just leave you like that. I just wanted to know where she was. Where _is_ the rest of your arm, anyway?”

Al directed him to where the hollow length of plate mail rested, and Ed felt a momentary tightness in his chest as he picked up the severed arm of his brother’s false body. With a clap of his hands, his alchemy reached out to Al and fused the broken metal back into one seamless piece. If only alchemy could so easily mend the brokenness Ed felt inside himself.

“I talked to Hohenheim in Resembool,” Ed admitted once the final sparks of the reaction had faded.

“Dad’s in Resembool?!”

“Not anymore. I don’t know where he is now, and I don’t care. He saw me have a bit of a…” Ed winced as he recalled it, “...an episode. He said that I might be at risk of becoming more animal than human as time goes on.”

“Oh no,” Al whispered, horrified. “Why? How would he know that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if I believe him -- he said it was because it was done without a philosopher’s stone, which does make a little sense, since we know that the chimeras from the military lab were made with a stone and they were definitely more human than I am.”

“Don’t say that, brother. You’re still human.”

“I know,” Ed lied.

Al hesitated. “Well, even if your body is a time bomb… mine is as well.”

“What do you mean?” Ed eyed his brother suspiciously.

Al closed and opened his fists, staring down at the metal that housed his soul. He explained, “Barry said that a soul can’t sustain itself outside its original body indefinitely. At some point, the bond between my soul and this suit of armor will become corroded enough that I won’t be able to inhabit it anymore.”

“What are you doing listening to _Barry?_ He’s not an alchemist! He probably said that to mess with you. Didn’t you learn your lesson from last time?”

Al clenched his fists again, hard enough to make the metal of the gauntlets creak, and Ed flattened his ears, regretting his tone. Before he could apologize, Al pressed on. “He was kind of on our side towards the end, though. And you have to admit that it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“We have no reason to believe that the bond is deteriorating,” Ed rebutted stubbornly. After a moment, he relented, his posture loosening as he knocked his fist against Al’s shoulder in a reassuring show of affection. “But we’ll keep an eye out for it, if you’re worried. Worst comes to worst, I can just renew the seal and bond it tighter, can’t I?”

“I don’t know if that would work, brother,” Al fretted. “You’re a chimera now, and the blood you used for the seal was from before. You don’t think that would affect the transmutation?”

Ed balled up his fists and said nothing in reply, which was a response in itself. The two brothers languished in the quietness of their uncertainty, listening to the ceiling fan gently turning above them.

So much about the two of them had changed over the years, but they were still fundamentally the same -- still searching for a way to reclaim what was lost. Their lives were like a circle, always reaching back.

Circles. It was almost funny, in a bitter, ironic sort of way.

For just a moment, Ed felt hopeless as he remembered the bones he’d dug up, the bones made of carbon he’d purchased with grocery money. If everything was so circular, would he really just make the same mistakes? He’d sacrificed parts of himself for other people; for Nina, for Al, for his Mom. But he never wanted to feel about Al or Nina how he felt about those bones.

The hopelessness burned away as Ed remembered his resolve. He didn’t have to fill the holes he’d carved out in himself for his family, he just had to make sure that even with the holes, he was strong enough to give them the lives they deserved. He had to get it _right_ this time.

And they would start by capturing a homunculus.

~~~

The plan was pretty simple. Ed would draw as much attention to himself as a state alchemist as he could in order to draw out Scar, who was active in the area again. Since the homunculi wanted him alive for whatever reason, they would likely try to intervene when Scar confronted Ed with the intention to explode his brain. That’s when Ling and Lan Fan would swoop in and go after the homunculus while Ed and Al dealt with Scar.

The first step of the plan was going well; Ed had nearly forgotten how nice it felt to be lavished with praise. He wanted so badly to roll his eyes at these people -- a lot of the transmutations he’d been doing were so simple that any child with a piece of chalk could have done them, but the genuine gratitude that was offered to him made him want to lift his tail and purr smugly. He didn’t of course, but that was the feeling it gave him.

By noon Ed was drowsy from a combination of all the transmutations he’d been doing, the warmth of the sun, and interacting with people. He stifled a yawn as Al picked out a cafe for them to sit and have lunch at. Ed sank into the chair with a contented hum, stretching his arms up leisurely over his head. Everything was going according to plan.

That was, until a car pulled up on the street beside them, and the window rolled down to reveal Colonel Mustang at the wheel. He was in civilian clothes rather than uniform, which was a rare sight; a clean suit complete with vest and tie, along with a white scarf draped around his neck.

“You’re being uncharacteristically public today, Fullmetal,” Mustang said as he casually glanced through his windshield at the street ahead.

Ed frowned and put his chin in his hand, his drowsiness all but evaporating.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in hospital, Colonel?” Ed drawled, tone deliberately bored. “I heard some broad did a real number on you. Which is funny, since most rumors attached to your name are the other way around.”

Mustang sighed and gave Ed a look that was half amused, half annoyed. “Why don’t you get in, and we can clear up these rumors you’ve been hearing. I’ve heard some things myself.”

Ed sniffed and crossed his legs, telegraphing his disinterest in standing. Al gave him a look that would’ve involved his eyebrows if he had any, and Ed sighed. He let Mustang idle there for a few more seconds before finally standing up and stepping towards the vehicle with another yawn. He’d rather not sit beside Mustang (the thought made his skin prickle) but Al took up so much space in a car that there was little choice.

“Ed’s right -- are you sure you should be out of the hospital, sir?” Al asked once he’d wedged himself into the back.

“Thank you for your concern, Alphonse, but I’m fine,” Mustang replied dismissively. He changed gears and began to drive.

Ed dropped his cheek into his hand again and stared out of the passenger window, hoping that Al would continue to handle the conversation, because he didn’t really feel like talking to Mustang.

"Lieutenant Breda has informed me that I've 'crossed a line,' in your words," said Mustang after a minute of tense silence. Ed’s hopes of avoiding a conversation crashed and burned.

He flicked one ear in Mustang’s direction to indicate he’d heard the man, but did not respond. The Colonel gave a quiet, displeased sigh.

"I suppose I should apologize," Mustang continued, though he didn’t sound very repentant. "Since I can't have you stay mad at me forever. Though I _would_ like to know what part, exactly, pushed me over the line to begin with, and why you still have a line, knowing the work you're in."

"Oh, you think the line has to do with my morals," Ed snapped. "It has more to do with you and me, Colonel. You really don't get why I'm mad?!"

"Look, I'm sorry I had to lie to you. You have to understand my position, though. Telling you about Ross beforehand would have just complicated things, and this needed to go as smoothly as possible, not just for my sake, but for Ross' own safety. I thought you would be mature enough to understand that."

"Mature enough--?!" Ed felt all of his fur bristle as he turned on the Colonel. “I’ll claw your eyes out, bastard! I’m plenty mature.”

“Yes, you’re really proving your point by threatening me,” Mustang said cooly. “If I need to use a firmer hand for you, Fullmetal, I will. Don’t test me.”

Ed remembered the sting in his cheek, and he turned away again, fuming. _Bastard,_ he thought vehemently. “It’s been three years. I don’t really think I owe you anything anymore,” Ed muttered darkly.

“No, I suppose you don’t,” Mustang echoed in the same even tone. Ed couldn’t help but wonder what he meant. Would Mustang really let him walk away if he tried? The only problem with that idea was that even though Ed didn’t like Mustang very much right now, there wasn’t really anyone else in the military he could go work for that he was likely to get along with better. That and the fact that he didn’t know who in the military was or wasn’t involved in the conspiracy, apart from Mustang and his allies.

For all that Mustang postured, he really had been looser with Ed’s leash than he could’ve been considering all of his insubordination over the years. Ed did his job, but a harsher CO would have court-martialed him for any number of things. Talking back, not adhering to uniform, defying orders. Mustang only ever gave him verbal warnings and a slap on the wrist, if anything. Looking back, Ed had taken advantage of this, thinking Mustang was a bit of a pushover, if a meddling and annoying one.

Now, Ed realised that Mustang clearly had no qualms with being hard on him, so why hadn’t he? Out of pity? Because he just happened to like Ed for whatever reason? If so -- what changed?

“Have you made any progress with your bodies?” Mustang asked as he turned a corner.

Ed hesitated for a moment before deciding to put his thoughts on the back burner and see where the conversation with Mustang went. “I have a theory, but we need more information. So we’re making a move.”

Mustang raised an eyebrow and glanced up at the rearview mirror. “A move, huh? I’d love to hear about it. But first, open the glove compartment. There’s something in there for you that might help.”

Curiosity begrudgingly piqued, Ed pulled the latch and opened the compartment in front of him. Inside was a manila folder with a squarish bulge indicating there was more inside than just documents. He unwound the string and took a peek inside to find a leatherbound journal along with a stapled package of papers. Ed tipped the folder and slid out the journal first. When he opened it up, he was met with handwritten notes and roughly sketched transmutation circles.

A faintly familiar smell drifted up from the pages, and when he brought the book closer to his face to get a better sniff he tensed as the recognition hit him. _Older-danger._

Shou Tucker.

Ed glanced at Mustang, who was also sneaking a glance at Ed out of the corner of his eye. The older man’s gaze slid away the moment their eyes met.

"Are these…?"

Mustang nodded. "I’ve decoded as much as I could in my spare time, but I figure you’ll be able to finish it faster than I can, mister prodigy. I just hope they'll be of some use to you."

A complicated feeling reached down Ed’s throat and took root in his stomach. He remembered the calm firmness Mustang had exuded on the night of Tucker’s transmutation, when he had asked Ed how he was going to reverse it. When he had taunted Ed for giving up so quickly. He had taken Tucker’s notes, _for Ed._ Had been working on decoding them in secret, _for Ed._

The feeling in his stomach tasted ever so slightly like forgiveness.

Ed placed Tucker’s notes on his lap and reached into the folder for the stapled document. He recognized the handwriting on these pages as Mustang’s, and just scanning the page he could already catch a few instances of the word ‘chimera.’

Despite everything, Mustang was still helping them.

“Thank you, Colonel,” Ed said quietly, placing the journal and its translation back into the folder.

“I just hope it helps,” Mustang repeated. “So, what’s this plan of yours?”

~~~

Winry was not part of the plan.

Ed had been trying to save his strength, since he wasn’t trying to win against Scar, merely draw out the fight as long as he could, but he’d found himself winded faster than intended, and needed an excuse to catch his breath. So he started yelling at Scar, trying to engage him verbally to try and give his own body a moment of rest. As much as Scar was just a pawn in the larger plot to bring out a homunculus, Ed still wanted him to answer for what he’d done. The murder of however many state alchemists, as well as Winry’s parents.

Winry wasn’t supposed to be there.

She wasn’t supposed to hear him say it.

 _“Brother, stop!”_ Al had cried out, trying to warn him. But it was too late.

Ed looked past Scar, the words already out of his mouth, and he could just barely make out half of Winry’s face behind the rubble of the torn up wall. She was staring at him, eyes wide.

“He… he killed Mom and Dad?” she asked, her voice empty out of shock.

Ed felt his heart plummet, and he pinned his ears back. “Winry, get out of here!” he shouted fearfully. Instead of fleeing, she dropped to her knees.

When she lifted the fallen MP’s gun with shaking hands, Ed begged her not to use it.

“Killing him won’t solve anything,” he said, pouring his heart into his words. “It’s _wrong,_ Winry!”

Ed knew death. Everyone standing in that alley had known death. Death of family, of friends, of people who hadn’t deserved it.

Through the teachings of his elders, Ed had learned that death was a natural part of life. Through the teachings of experience, he had learned that death was the most terrible pain, not for those who died, but those who lived on. To cause a death, to create that outward ripple of pain, to inflict a death on the world -- Ed never wanted that. Not for himself, not for Al, and not for Winry.

When Scar decided he’d had enough talking and started to move, Ed reacted before he could think. He threw himself in front of Winry, grabbing her hand and shoving the gun down towards the ground even as he tossed his other arm out to shield her from Scar’s outstretched hand.

There was a growl in Ed’s throat, a warning to Scar, who for the first time visibly hesitated.

That’s when Al -- bless him -- lashed out with his foot, catching Scar off guard and sending him stumbling. Trusting his brother to mitigate that threat, Ed turned to Winry.

Her cheeks were wet and her eyes were red. Her nose was running and she was shaking all over. He’d seen her have so many meltdowns in the course of fifteen years, over things ranging from the loss of her parents to a screw that wouldn’t loosen, but he’d never been good at handling her when she was upset. He only ever seemed to make it worse, somehow. Still, this time, he had to try.

“Why did you do that, Ed?” Winry asked harshly. Her voice trembled with anger. “He killed my parents! You should have let me-- I should have--!”

She bent over herself and released a terrible noise of anguish, still gripping the gun tightly.

 _“Why couldn’t I do it?!”_ Winry sobbed, fresh tears flowing down her face.

Ed’s chest clenched so painfully that for a second he forgot how to breathe. He needed to fix this. He started by covering her hands -- and the gun she clutched -- with his own.

“Do you remember,” he began softly, “how you delivered the baby in Rush Valley? Satella and her son are alive and unhurt because of what you did.”

Gently, Ed uncurled one of Winry’s fingers. Her hands were stiff but pliable, giving in to him without a fight.

“Do you remember how you gave me my automail? A leg to stand on,” he uncurled another finger, “and an arm to fight with.” Another finger.

“You couldn’t do it because it’s not who you are, Winry,” Ed continued, still in the same soft voice. He finished gently prying the gun from her grasp, and he set it to the side, out of her reach. Then he held her hand between both of his own, pressing her palm against the palm of his automail to let her feel the smooth metal that she herself had sculpted. “Your hands aren’t meant to kill. They’re meant to give life.”

He squeezed her hand ever so slightly, pressure meant to reassure, to remind her who she was, and that he was there for her.

For a moment Winry didn’t react. She just sat there, shuddering with the effort of pushing air in and out of her lungs. Then she swayed forward, fists scrabbling at the front of Ed’s shirt as she pulled him in, pushed her forehead against his collarbone, and _wailed._

Ed immediately wrapped his arms around her shoulders, overwhelmed by the need to _comfort, protect._ He felt the way her sobs shook her body, the way her emotions wracked her so violently, the same as they had when they were kids, and he distantly tried to remember the last time he had let himself cry so openly.

He tucked his nose into her hair, and found that he could practically smell her sadness and grief.

He tried to purr for her, but no sound would come out. His chest was locked up with that emptiness he always felt whenever he knew he should be feeling more.

More MPs came, eventually, and the spell was broken. Ed draped his jacket around Winry’s shoulders and stood up. She stared up at him with red, puffy eyes and held tight to his automail hand. He forced himself to look away.

“I have to go help Al,” Ed told her, voice quiet but not quite as soft as before. “I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back."

“Wait,” Winry pleaded, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Ed didn’t wait. He wanted to, but he couldn’t; as much as she mattered, there were greater things at stake. So he slipped his hand out of hers and followed the trail of Al’s alchemy deeper into the city.

He didn’t look back. It didn’t stop him from feeling her eyes burning into him as he left her behind, again.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shoves catboy ed into a locker* this story isn't just about YOU, loser

The taxi ride to the hotel from the military command centre was quiet. The brothers said nothing, meanwhile Winry sat across from them and stared listlessly out the window, thinking about everything Ed had told her.

_“Your hands aren’t meant to kill. They’re meant to give life.”_

Remembering his gentle words from hours before almost made Winry tear up again, but she bit down on those feelings with a deep, calming breath. Was that really how Ed thought of her? She wasn’t some angel, she was just a greasy gearhead who happened to know a few things about medicine.

Still, the thought of continuing her parents' legacy in that way brought her a strange sort of heavy comfort, like a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

After arriving at the hotel and taking the sweetest phone call she had ever received, Winry knew what she had to do. As much as she cared about the Elric brothers, they weren’t going to stop leaving her behind, and she didn’t want to spend all her time sitting in a hotel room waiting for them to come back. She had other people who depended on her, and she wasn’t going to disappoint them.

She asked Ed to buy her a ticket for the next train to Rush Valley, and he just nodded, avoiding her eyes. She blinked at him, confused, and nervous if maybe that was the wrong thing to do. Did he want her to stay?

The three of them made their way back up to Ed and Al’s room, and Ed announced that he was taking a shower before slinking off to the bathroom.

Winry sat on the bed, hands curled in her lap, and waited for the door to shut before looking at Al. “Do you know if Ed is upset with me?” she asked in a quiet voice, aware of Ed’s keen hearing.

Al paused in reaching for a folder resting on the bedside table, and instead came to sit beside her. The mattress dipped under the weight of the armor, raising Winry enough that for a moment her heels left the ground before settling again.

“What makes you think he’s upset with you?” Al asked in an equally hushed tone.

Winry ran her fingers through one of the long pieces of hair that framed her face. “He just seems kind of… moody, I guess? Moodier than usual, I mean. He wouldn’t look at me, down in the lobby.”

“Huh?” Al sounded surprised, and then seemed to realize something. “Oh. I’m sure he’s not upset with _you,_ Winry.”

She twisted her hair around her fingers more intently. “So he is upset about something, then. I can stay, if he doesn’t want me to go. Or if you don’t, for that matter.”

Al turned more towards her and waved his hands. “No no! You should go! I mean, we’re happy that you’re around, of course, it’s always good to see you, but if you want to go back to Rush Valley you definitely should!”

Winry took in the gestures and the awkward earnestness in Al’s voice, and couldn’t help but smile. She leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment, mindful of the spikes. “Thanks, Al. It’s always good to see you too,” she said with a soft sigh.

After a beat she lifted her head and stood up, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Alright!” she said with a bit of forced enthusiasm. “I better go get my things together. Ed probably won’t take too much longer, right?”

“Umm, I’d say maybe thirty minutes?” Al guessed, wobbling his hand in the air. “He likes to let his fur dry fully before getting dressed.”

Winry hadn’t thought about that. “Oh,” she said, pausing. “That makes sense.”

Al seemed to sense her hesitance. “Why don’t you bring all your things over here, and the three of us can just chat until Ed’s ready to go,” he offered.

Relieved at the prospect of not having to sit in her room by herself for half an hour, Winry nodded and flounced towards the door to get her things.

Winry was explaining to Al about a new technique for balancing automail she’d learned from Mr. Dominic when Ed emerged from the bathroom in just his trousers, which sat low on his hips to allow his tail freedom of movement. His hair was down and dripping onto the towel draped around his neck. Winry’s eyes were drawn to his automail first, always admiring and critiquing her own work, but it led her eyes to the scarring on his shoulder, evidence of his rushed recovery. His ears pricked up when he noticed her, and she smiled at him, losing traction with what she was saying to Al.

“I guess one of us should call the train station and check when the next train is,” Ed said, rubbing at his hair with the towel. “Since you seem ready to go.” He glanced at her luggage, stacked haphazardly by the door.

“I can do it,” Al volunteered, standing up. Ed nodded to him and he left the room to go use the phone at the front desk.

Winry watched Al go, and then fidgeted with the hem of her skirt as she turned her gaze to Ed again, who was now running a brush through his hair with an absent expression.

“I said this to Al already, but if you want me to stay, I will,” she told him quietly.

Ed’s ears pivoted to the sides for a moment before relaxing forwards again. Winry didn’t know what that meant, but she was sure it indicated something. “What?” he said, continuing to brush his hair. “No, you have clients, don’t you? We’re fine on our own, you’re better off in Rush Valley.”

“Right, okay,” Winry murmured. Even though she _wanted_ to go back to Rush Valley and was glad they were supportive, there was still a part of her stupid heart that felt hurt, like they didn’t want her around.

Eventually Ed set down the brush and went to his own suitcase, retrieving a roll of white bandages. He seemed to hesitate for a second, then glanced at Winry and brought them over to her. “Will you help me with this?” he asked, pointing to the cut on his forehead.

“Oh, um, sure! Have a seat,” she said, taking the bandages from him.

With one hand, Ed gathered his bangs and pushed them back, pressing them to the top of his head so they wouldn’t be in the way. Winry inspected the cut; it was maybe two inches long, not very deep and no longer bleeding, though the skin was still red and tender-looking. Satisfied that it looked clean and that it needed nothing more, Winry started to wrap the bandage around his head.

She tried to focus on the work, but she kept getting distracted by Ed’s ears. At one point, her hand brushed the damp fur, causing him to flick his ear in irritation. She mumbled an apology and he hummed wordlessly back.

“Thanks,” Ed said when she finished securing the bandage and lowered her hands. For what felt like the first time since he’d taken the gun away from her, he looked her in the eyes, and she felt her heart jump erratically. After a moment he looked away again, and Winry turned away as well, feeling her face get warm for whatever reason.

“Should I say goodbye to Gracia and the girls for you?” Ed asked, surprising her.

Winry slapped her forehead. “Oh! Oh, I totally forgot! Yes, please, and let them know they can call me in Rush Valley whenever they want!”

Also for the first time today, Ed smiled. It was more of a smirk, really, but it still lifted Winry’s spirits. “Yeah, sure. You’d really forget your own head if it wasn’t attached, huh, Win?”

Winry pushed his shoulder playfully. “Shut up! Not everyone is as smart as you, we get it.”

Ed flicked his ears back and looked at her in alarm. “That’s not what I said at all! You’re super smart!”

“I know, I was just teasing,” Winry giggled.

Ed huffed and swished his tail, but said nothing.

Al returned soon after, and once Ed felt his fur was sufficiently dry, he buttoned up a navy blue collared shirt that Winry recognized as a gift from Granny for his last birthday. It was a little long on him, since Granny had expected him to grow into it, but Winry noticed that his shoulders actually filled it out quite nicely.

The three of them set off for the train station as the sky was starting to turn orange with the sunset. Winry boarded the train and took a seat by the window so she could lean out and talk to the brothers one final time before departure.

“Don’t forget to maintain your automail, Ed,” she reminded sternly. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you showered without covering it. You need to oil it more often if you’re going to do that, or it’ll rust.”

Ed was back to not looking her in the eye, and he scuffed the toe of his boot across the concrete of the platform. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.

Winry frowned at him. “I mean it. And I’ll send you some good polishing wax soon, Al,” she added, glancing up at the younger brother.

“Sure, thanks, Winry,” Al said with a nod. “Say hi to Paninya and Mr. Garfiel and everyone for us.”

“I will,” she agreed with a smile.

“Hey, Winry,” Ed said, eyes still lowered. Winry leaned forward, wondering what he had to say, but as he opened his mouth, the whistle of the train blew, and his words were lost in the din.

“WHAT?” Winry shouted over the noise, cupping her hand to her ear.

By the time the whistle died down, Ed had already turned away. The train shifted, jolting as the brakes were released, and began to slowly inch away from the platform.

“Wait!” Winry cried, leaning further out the window, towards Ed’s retreating back. “Edward! What did you say?!”

Ed paused, and then pivoted around. The setting sun highlighted the burnish of his golden eyes as they fixed on her. He took a deep breath, then raised his hand to point at her, almost accusatory, and shouted, “I said the next time I make you cry, I promise they’ll be tears of joy!”

Surprised, Winry felt warmth course through her. But Ed wasn’t finished.

“You’ll see! Al and I will get back to our original bodies, and you’ll be so happy that you’ll weep!”

The realization struck Winry like lightning. That was why Ed had been acting so mild around her, avoiding her gaze and hesitating on his words. He hadn’t been upset with her, he’d been upset with himself for causing her pain. For making her cry.

Winry forced a smile, though her eyebrows pinched together slightly. She waved, and hollered back, “I’m counting on it!”

Ed lowered his hand, nodded sharply, and turned back around. The train was picking up speed now, but even as they walked away, Winry saw Al nudge his brother, and Ed hunch his shoulders defensively as he snapped back a retort that was too far away to hear.

The smile on her face softened into something more gentle, more genuine, and she pulled her head back inside the train car as it finished pulling away from the platform.

It had been such a tumultuous day, and Winry had a lot to think about.

~~~

After all the trials and tribulations the day had to offer, Ling was relieved to sit down in the wooden cabin in the woods, though he couldn’t fully relax. Lan Fan was still being operated on in the next room, and Ling could hear her muffled cries of agony through the wall. He felt hungry and exhausted, but how could he let himself rest while she was in pain? He had some rations tucked away, but though he knew it was bad for his health, he did not pull them out and eat them. He could not eat while Lan Fan was enduring this pain, enduring it for his sake, for the sake of their clan.

When the Elric brothers approached him, there was an unusual tenseness to Edward’s shoulders. His pupils were wide in the dim lantern light, but Ling remembered how they had appeared in the bright day of the dusty valley where they’d met, slit-pupiled and honey-gold. Alphonse looked the same as he always did, but Ed had forgone his usual braid for a ponytail, and had a bandage wrapped around his head. He had also removed his hat, allowing Ling to see the uneasy shifting of his cat-like ears.

“I’m sorry,” Edward said, bowing his head. “She got hurt because of what we asked you to do.”

“Don’t be.” Ling put one foot up onto the crate he sat upon, drawing his knee close to his chest as a shield. “We offered to help. We knew the risks when we came to this country. We--” he cut himself off, clenching his fist. He tried again. “I was prepared to make sacrifices.”

His throat closed painfully, and Ling grit his teeth, placing his balled up fist against his forehead. “I wasn’t prepared enough, it seems. Not… not for this. Lan Fan was willing when I wasn’t. She made the choice I was too weak to make.”

Another muffled squeal of pain carried through the wall, and Ling closed his eyes against the sound.

“You really care about her, huh?” said the soft voice of Alphonse.

Ling took a deep breath to centre himself. _More than is proper,_ he thought to himself. Out loud he simply said, “I owe her much.”

Even as fond of the Elric brothers as he was, Ling could not tell them how much he cared for her. How much her faith in him kept him going, how her counsel swayed him, how her smile delighted him. He had never even told _her_ that much. The moment they were safe and alone, he would, he decided. As well as apologize gratuitously.

When the doctor finished operating, Ling did not go into the room. The brothers did, and he could hear their voices as they did what he could not bring himself to do: speak to Lan Fan.

Then a man approached him, with dark hair and dark eyes that reminded Ling of home. He introduced himself as Colonel Mustang, so Ling shook his hand and thanked him for his help.

That’s when the monster broke free, and attacked.

~~~

One minute Ling was standing in the forest, fighting a shape-changing monster, and the next he was staring down a different monster, the eye inside Gluttony’s stomach. Ling had felt its gaze pierce him in a way he had never experienced, and it dragged him through in a whirling blast of wind and light and darkness -- which is how he found himself somewhere else entirely.

Ling pushed himself onto his hands and knees in the thick liquid surrounding him. The smell of it turned his stomach in its familiarity. It was definitely blood.

Darkness seemed to stretch out infinitely, punctuated only by flickering firelight that dotted the scattered structures around him.

Somewhere to the left, Ling heard someone gag. By the sparse light, he could see that it was Edward, also on his knees in the blood-swamp, his eyes pressed tightly shut. Ling stood up and made his way over to Ed, who was breathing faster than normal.

“Hey, Edward,” Ling said, reaching out to grasp Ed’s shoulder and turn the boy to face him.

Ed opened his eyes and looked up at Ling, before pressing his nose into the crook of his own elbow. “Sorry,” he said, muffled by the fabric of his shirt. “The smell is -- it’s really strong.”

Ling squeezed his shoulder in sympathy and then let go, gazing around at the ruined structures around them. “Where are we?” he asked, hoping a dialogue might help distract Ed. “There’s no way that beast was hiding such a cavernous space inside it, right?”

“I don’t know,” Ed admitted, dragging himself to his feet. “But getting pulled in here… I remember that sensation.”

Ling looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

Rather than answer, Ed’s ears pricked up, alert, and he started scanning around with a frantic energy. “Shit. Alphonse?!” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Aaaaalphooooonse!”

“I think it’s just us,” Ling said, hands on his hips. Glancing around at the fire that danced here and there, he spotted the half of the cabin that Gluttony had devoured. “We were swallowed. Look at what’s around us -- that fire must have been from Colonel Mustang.”

Ed paused in order to look. “You’re right. Let’s grab some fire and see if we can find a way out of here.”

Ling nodded and sloshed towards a nearby tree that looked like it had been ripped in half before landing here to collect some branches they could turn into torches.

They picked a random direction and began their search for something, anything, that could help them find their way back. Perhaps ten minutes had passed by the time Ling could no longer ignore the familiar fatigue pulling on his shoulders and legs.

“Hang on,” he called to Ed, who was a few paces ahead of him.

Out of breath, the prince sat on a collapsed pillar and put his face in his hand to try and steady the dizziness.

“What now?” Ed asked grumpily. “We have to find a way out of here, Al could still be fighting! We can’t just sit on our asses.”

“I need to eat,” Ling said. He stuck his torch between his knees and fumbled for the rations in his pocket. The small loaf of rice bread was soggy with blood when he pulled it out, filling him with disgust. He broke the loaf open and inspected the middle. There was a tiny bit that still looked edible, so Ling ripped it out and popped it into his mouth, tossing the rest of the loaf away in frustration.

Ed was hesitating a few feet away. As Ling moved his torch again and bent over to press his forehead to his knees, he heard Ed sigh and slosh closer.

“Do you need some water?” Ed asked, somehow managing to sound both exasperated and genuine, which made Ling smile, even in the situation they were in.

“Do you have any on you?” Ling asked in return, lifting his head slightly.

“No, but it would be easy to use alchemy to make some,” Ed replied, gesturing to the sea of ankle-deep blood that could easily have gone on for miles.

Ling hesitated. “Is that safe?”

Ed scoffed. “Of course it is. Alchemy-made water is the cleanest water you can get, because it’s completely pure on the molecular level. It’s not like running lake water through a filter, it’s isolating the H2O. Here, take this and just watch.”

Ed shoved his own torch into Ling’s hand. Ling accepted it out of reflex, and watched curiously as Ed clapped his hands together and then crouched down to reach the blood. Bright blue sparks lit up the area in front of him, and a metal cup materialized in front of the alchemist, rising up from the blood like a miracle.

When Ed finished, he stood and held his hand out for his torch. Ling gave it to him, and in turn Ed handed him the metal cup. It was full of water.

“Alchemy sure is incredible,” Ling murmured as he swirled the water. His family had an alkahestrist who served them, but Ling had only seen the art up close when it was used to close his own wounds. (It was the only reason the scars he had were so few and faint, despite the number of attacks he had survived since birth.) He had never seen it used like this before.

Ed seemed to preen a little under the praise, his tail lifting slightly. “A little carbon and iron to form a container, and then hydrogen plus oxygen to make water. It’s pretty simple, I don’t really get why so many people act like alchemy is such a big deal when it’s so easy to understand.”

Ling smirked helplessly at him. “I don’t know whether to believe you’re arrogant or humble,” he said before taking a sip. The water was surprisingly cool, and left no aftertaste -- he had expected to taste at least a little iron, but Ed had been right: it was as pure as pure could be.

“What do you mean?” Ed asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“When someone like you claims that what he does is simple, is it arrogant, because he is flaunting his skill? Or is it humble, because he truly believes he is no better than anyone else?” Ling explained with a sly smile. He drank the rest of the water in a few thirsty gulps, and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve when he was done. “That was refreshing, thank you.”

Ed flicked his tail and glanced away, his ears folded to the sides. “Sure, no problem,” he muttered. “Can you keep going?”

After considering the cup for a moment, Ling placed it in his pocket. It would be an interesting keepsake, if they ever made it out of this hellish place. He stretched his legs out, flexed his toes, and then sighed when even doing that much made him feel tired.

“You might have to carry me,” Ling replied, voice light and teasing.

To Ling’s surprise, Ed rolled his eyes and turned his back to Ling, bending his knees to brace himself. “Fine,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Ling asked, pushing himself into a standing position, only to sway and fall back onto the pillar. “Oof.”

“You can hardly stand,” Ed pointed out crossly. “So, yeah, I’m sure. Let’s go already.” He backed up towards Ling, a clear invitation for a piggyback.

After another moment of hesitation, Ling shrugged and leaned forward, draping himself over Ed’s back. The shorter teen grunted as he stood and took Ling’s full weight, wrapping his free arm around one of Ling’s legs to help stabilize him. Ling rested his chin against Ed’s shoulder and closed his eyes, grateful for the small reprieve.

“As messed up as it is, I’m glad you’re here,” Ling murmured. He could actually feel goosebumps raise along Ed’s neck, which was fascinating.

“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” Ed muttered back, but there was no real bite to his words.

In response, Ling just hummed and focused on holding his torch in such a way that he wouldn’t set fire to Ed’s ponytail by accident.

Ed carried him for another fifteen, twenty minutes, until they reached a break in the sea of blood. A section of smooth stone formed a raised platform, easily large enough for them to sit on and stay dry.

“Looks like Xerxes,” Ling commented as Ed deposited him onto the stone. He was so light-headed that he immediately laid down, even if the stone chilled his skin through his jacket.

Ed glanced at the stone structures surrounding them. “You’re right. I wonder what the homunculi were doing in Xerxes,” he remarked as he sat down beside Ling. He pulled his tail into his lap and started picking fussily at the blood-matted fur, which made Ling smile haphazardly.

“What’s it like, being a chimera?” Ling asked, tongue loosened by the impending sense of death that made its home in this space.

Ed paused in grooming his blood-clotted fur to examine his equally dirty nails. “It’s weird,” he admitted. “It feels… volatile. My self-control has always been a little iffy but now I have a lot of really weird impulses and… feelings.”

“Would you go back to the way you were before, if you could?” Ling asked.

To Ling’s surprise, Ed hesitated. 

“Of course I would,” he said eventually. “I’m just not sure if it’s possible. And, to be totally honest, I would feel bad about it, because I-- he-- the cat was important to someone I care about. And she doesn’t deserve to lose anyone else.”

Ling observed Ed curl his hand into a fist. Everything he learned about Ed just made him more and more fascinated.

“Sounds like an interesting dilemma,” Ling sighed. “If it’s something you want, I think you should pursue it. Nothing is impossible, after all.”

Ed huffed and went back to clawing through the stiff clumps of blood-matted fur on his tail without replying. 

After a few more minutes, the heaviness in Ling’s limbs began spreading to his head, and he knew he was close to passing out.

“I hate to be a downer,” he said weakly. “But if I don’t eat something soon this might be it for me.”

Ed pinned his ears back as he considered this. After a few seconds, he pulled his left boot off and poured the blood out, then held it up like it was the answer to everything. “Leather goods are edible, you know,” he said. “If you boil the shit out of them.”

Several alchemy-filled minutes later, Ling found himself warming himself by the cookfire while Ed prodded at the leather they were boiling the shit out of in the iron pot above the fire.

“For today’s main course,” Ling mumbled. “Soup of shoe. An Amestrian delicacy.”

Ed snorted. “Joke all you want. It’s called survival.”

After they both finished choking down their portion of tough leather, Ed groaned and laid down spread-eagle on the stone. After looking at him curiously for a moment, Ling laid down again as well, his head next to Ed’s but laying in the opposite direction.

For a few minutes the only sound was the crackling and popping of the fire as the boys stared up at the yawning void of nothingness that stretched on above them.

Eventually Edward broke the silence, with a question that surprised Ling. “What’s Xing like?”

“It’s a beautiful country of diverse and hard-working people,” Ling recited. “My clan resides in the highlands, where there are many lakes and waterfalls. It’s very different from Amestris.”

“It sounds nice.”

Ling felt an amused smile dance across his expression, even if Ed couldn’t see it. “Why so curious, all of a sudden?”

“I guess I was just thinking that your clan must be pretty important to you for you to go through all this shit just to help them.” Ed raised his hand and gestured towards the nothingness.

The smile on Ling’s face twisted into something more contemplative. “Of course they’re important to me. They’re my people. I’m their prince.”

Ed’s laughter felt both too loud and too flat in this wide open space. “I somehow always manage to forget that you’re royalty.”

Ling snorted. “Fu says I manage to forget that sometimes myself.”

“Is it hard, being a prince?” Ed asked, his natural curiosity peeking through in his voice.

“Some aspects are more favourable than others,” Ling admitted. “I am in a unique position to help a great many people if I am successful. I think that’s the most important thing.”

“Right. But what’s your house like? Do you live in a palace?”

A surprised laugh bubbled out of Ling’s lungs. “Not quite. There is a room in the palace for representatives of the Yao clan, but I’ve only slept there a handful of times. The house I grew up in is more of a manor than a palace.”

For the first time since the conversation began, Ed lapsed into silence. Ling shifted his head to the side to peer at him, and saw that he was chewing on his lower lip.

“What is it?” Ling asked, his voice coming out a bit softer than he intended.

“Is it alright if I ask about your mom?” Ed asked back, cautious but not timid. “Back in Rush Valley you said… well, you said you didn’t mind telling the story.”

Ling returned his head to its previous position, staring up into the vertigo-inducing void. “Her name was Min,” he began quietly. “Min Yao. I spent far more time with nannies and tutors than I did with her, but she would always come into my room at night to sing me lullabies.”

For a moment Ling paused, but Ed was silent, just listening.

“She died six years ago, when I was nine,” the prince continued. “Assassins broke into the manor. They were after me, but she was in my room to sing to me, and she died in my place. She wasn’t a fighter, she was a lady of the court. She could sing and dance and lie like the best of them, but she didn’t know how to fight. I did, though, I had been training for it, because we knew I would have to be able to protect myself from assassins, except it didn’t do me much good, since I couldn’t even protect her. She died in my bed.”

Ling closed his eyes and listened to the crackle of the fire. He still remembered that night vividly. The _slam_ of the window flying open. The _twang_ of the poisoned arrow being fired. The gasped scream of his mother as she collapsed on top of him.

Ever since that night, he preferred the thin padding of a sleeping mat to the softness of a bed. Whenever he tried to lay in a bed, his heart would race, remembering the heavy weight of his mother’s pody pressing him down into the mattress, the warm blood soaking into his sheets.

“That’s terrible,” Ed eventually murmured. “But it’s not your fault.”

A shiver made its way down Ling’s spine. He blamed it on the coldness of the stone he was laying on.

“What about your mother?” Ling asked, craning his head back until he caught a glimpse of Ed’s face, though it was mostly obscured by shadow.

 _“My_ mother?” Ed repeated. “She was great. She grew tomatoes in the garden, and would make all kinds of fresh stews and sauces with them. When Al and I started to pick up alchemy, she encouraged us and every time we showed off for her she just gave the biggest smile and told us how proud she was.”

Ling could hear the smile in Ed’s voice more than he could see it, and it made him smile too, reflexively.

Then Ed sat up, suddenly. Ling turned to watch him, propping himself up on one arm, but the Amestrian boy kept his back to the prince.

“I was only five when she got sick. I was holding her hand when she died.” The smile in Ed’s voice had vanished.

Ling opened his mouth to offer his sympathy, but was startled into silence when Ed twisted around to stare at him, accusatory. “Can we go back to the part where you’re fifteen years old?” he demanded. “That can’t be true.”

“It is true, actually,” Ling said, raising an eyebrow. “But it’s not the first time I’ve heard that. What makes you think I’m not fifteen?”

Ed pinned his ears back, and it was hard to tell in the firelight, but Ling thought he saw Ed’s cheeks turn a little pink as well. “Well, I just -- I thought for sure you were older than me.”

Ling laughed at him, but then something caught his attention, causing him to sit up properly and stare out over the sea of rotten blood. Clearly Ed could sense it too, because he was staring in the same direction, ears pricked forward and tail brushing side to side against the stone.

“Looks like we’re not as alone as we thought,” Ling muttered as the tangled mass of throbbing qi continued moving closer.

“It’s Envy,” Ed confirmed with a growl, pushing himself to his feet.

Ling sighed again and did the same. He still wasn’t feeling at full strength, and he didn’t want to have to fight the shape-changing monster again, but he would do what he had to. He wouldn’t leave Ed to fight on his own, not after everything the boy had done for him.

He had faith in Edward -- if anybody could find a way out of this situation, he was sure it was Ed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’know what i think Ling needs? More trauma. I find Ling’s family life to be endlessly fascinating given that we know next to nothing about it apart from the implication that his siblings routinely put hits out on him. All the more blanks for me to fill in myself mwahahaha
> 
> anyway these past couple chapters i've been posting as i complete them, but i think i'm going to forgo that for a little while and just, take as much time as i need to write the next few chapters and then release them at a more regular rate rather than super sporadically. follow me on tumblr @cloudheaded if u want, since i'll probably make little updates about my progress over there. 
> 
> thanks for reading <3


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for emetophobia in this chapter

The flickering circle of light from the cookfire extended a few yards away from the stone slab where Ed and Ling had parked themselves to rest. From just beyond the border of inky darkness, Ed could hear the wet sounds of something moving closer.

"It's Envy," he growled, able to make out the shape of their long, stringy hair just before they stepped into the light.

"Oh, hullo boys," the homunculus sneered, their expression darker than usual. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"What do you want?” Ling asked, wary. He was in a tense stance beside Ed, clearly on edge.

“More importantly, do you know a way out of here?” Ed asked. They might be dangerous and annoying but he’d be their damn best friend if it meant he’d get to see Al again.

Envy scowled and perched up on a nearby piece of rubble. “There is no way out. I can’t believe I got swallowed trying to stop your sorry tail. Thanks for that.”

“Swallowed,” Ling echoed. “So this really is the inside of Gluttony’s belly.”

Envy rolled their eyes. “It’s more complicated than that. Surely you’ve realized what this place is, Fullmetal Alchemist?” They spoke the title like it was an insult, their voice pitching up into a nasally, mocking tone.

Still, Ed’s stomach churned at their words. When he’d been hit with the sucking, ripping blast from Gluttony’s monstrous second mouth, the sensation had been chillingly familiar. It was the same feeling of being pulled apart and having some force _see_ him down to his very molecules that he’d experienced the first time he opened his gate.

“Are you saying this is the place beyond the portal?” he demanded. “But it was nothing like this place! It wasn’t dark, there was no _blood._ There’s no way.”

He could feel Ling look at him sharply, could practically hear the unasked questions the prince had for him. He ignored that and focused on Envy, whose expression -- normally twisted in a playfully sadistic grin -- hadn’t changed from its dark scowl.

“Again, yes and no,” they said, more serious than Ed had ever seen them. “Gluttony was our father’s attempt to artificially construct a portal of truth. We aren’t physically inside Gluttony’s stomach, because we aren’t physically _anywhere._ We don’t exist. There’s no way out, and all we can do is sit here and wait to die.”

Ed clenched his fists. Bitter bile rose in his throat, and he shook his head fiercely. He couldn’t die here. He had promises to keep. “There has to be a way,” he insisted, stepping forward. “Who even is your father? You mean the one who created you, right? Was he the one who set everything up? The fifth lab where philosopher’s stones were made? The chimera lab?”

“Ooh, the chimera lab?” Envy repeated, their scowl finally breaking for a smirk and a glint in their eye. “Yes, I can see why that would interest you.”

“Answer the question,” Ed growled.

“I’ve always enjoyed chimeras,” Envy said conversationally, crossing one leg over the other as they leered at Ed. “There’s a certain satisfaction in reducing an arrogant, foolish human into nothing more than a snarling, whimpering _monster._ Oh, the sounds in that lab were just delightful! So much screaming! Did you scream, too, pipsqueak? When that alchemist made you? I bet you did. I bet you begged for your pathetic little life.”

Ed’s hackles rose, and he hissed at Envy, hunching his shoulders forward.

_Angry, fighting, challenger-predator, not-human._

“Those were _people!_ ” he snapped, feeling his anger carry him to the edge of the stone dais. “How the fuck can you be so okay with what you did to them?! You're the real monster, here!”

Envy’s smirk faded again to be replaced with a cold look of pure hatred. “You want me to be a monster?” they said in a low voice. “Fine. I’ll show you a monster. We’re all going to die anyway. I might as well take the pleasure of killing you myself.”

They uncrossed their legs and stood up, tossing their hair back. Ed braced himself, his instincts screaming at him to flee, to fight, to _live, live, live._

Red alchemic sparks rippled up Envy’s form, and they began to grow. Their body expanded at an alarming rate, doubling, then tripling in size. Limbs as huge as old oak trees exploded out from their torso, and their skin shifted from creamy pale to a sickly deep green. They tossed back their huge head, which resembled the snout of a beast rather than a human, and let out a deep, bellowing roar that shook Edward to his very bones.

_Monster, run, gonna-eat-me, RUN!_

Ed staunchly did not run. The involuntary growl that vibrated his clenched jaw was accompanied by shivers that wracked his body from head to toe.

Faces began to emerge all over Envy’s neck and upper torso, _human_ faces with hollow eyes and gaping mouths, all writhing, all growing in and on top of each other and screaming out in haunting voices. It was appalling. It was a thing of nightmares.

“That thing is a homunculus?” Ling cried in disbelief from off to the side, taking a defensive stance. “I thought they were supposed to be artificial _humans!”_

Envy whipped around to face the two of them, horrible lips peeled back in a horrible snarl that revealed horrible teeth the size of serving platters. Whenever they moved, it sent waves of blood crashing up against the stone the boys stood on, displaced by the monstrosity’s massive volume.

The tail came at them so fast that Ed barely had time to clench his muscles before it impacted him, hard, and sent him flying through the air. Pain erupted in his chest, but he still managed to twist around midair and land on all fours with a splash. His wrists and ankles ached with the landing, his tail lashed behind him, and each breath felt like a jolt of white-hot lightning to his probably-broken ribs.

_Pain, fighting, can’t-won’t die, run, FIGHT!_

He would have twitched his whiskers in anticipation if he had any. His body felt electrified, and the sound of his own heartbeat pulsed in the fur of his ears too loud to hear much else. He ran forwards on two legs, tail balancing, metal claws raised in order to slash. The _bigger-monster_ swiped at him with claws of its own but he was faster, he leapt onto the arm and dug his claws in, holding on. The thing wailed at him, so he sunk his fangs in too, for good measure.

_Hold it, bite it, bite it til it dies._

It shook its arm, trying to dislodge him, but he sunk his claws further, bit harder until he tasted blood, thick and warm and foul. The enemy howled and reared up, finally using another hand to paw at him, battering him until his grip slipped and he fell into the mire of stinking old blood. The smell and taste of it invaded him everywhere.

_“ED!”_ shouted someone, cutting through the heartbeat.

He pinned his ears back and rolled out of the way of the monster’s stomping feet. He rolled upright, jaws parted, still tasting nothing but blood. He flicked his tail and rushed in again; something else was distracting its head (good, stay away from its _bad-evil_ face, those teeth will _kill-me, eat-me_ ) which let him jump for the main body and rake his claws across one of the faces.

Wait.

The faces.

Ed snapped out of his tunnel vision and fell backwards, staring as the face he had clawed. It was as bald and featureless as the other numerous faces bubbling out of Envy’s body, but it now had five bleeding gouges carved out of its cold green flesh. Red alchemical sparks flared up around the wounds as they began to heal, but still the face gaped at him with an agonized expression. There was so much screaming and crying, he couldn’t tell which voice -- if any -- belonged to that particular face, but Ed’s stomach still turned.

_“Please kill me,”_ said one.

_“Mommy? Where are you?”_ said another.

Those were _people._

The blood in his mouth was Envy’s, but it was laden with the fragrance of _human, human, human._

_“Play with me, big brother!”_ said a voice that was sickeningly reminiscent of Nina’s.

Ed immediately turned over and puked, revolted with himself. Pain from his cracked ribs surged through him, pushing up another wave of vomit.

_There goes the boot,_ he thought, delirious.

Envy’s tail whipped over his head, drawing his attention from the unpleasant burning in his throat. They were thrashing around, trying to pin down Ling, who was occupying their front half while Ed lay in the mire, wheezing.

“ED! GET UP!” Ling yelled. “I NEED A WEAPON!”

Right. Ling wasn’t like him. No claws, no fangs (still strong, still fast; he remembered admiring the way he’d moved in the darkness of the woods, so at home in his own skin) no alchemy.

Alchemy. Ed clapped his hands together and reached for the iron and carbon in the blood surrounding him, twining them together, stringing it out into the shape of a short, curved blade that mimicked the weapon he’d seen Ling wield before -- with a few stylistic embellishments of course. He flipped gracefully to his feet (as graceful as he could manage when every breath felt like a knife to the lungs) and ducked beneath Envy’s still lashing tail before running around their side and tossing the sword to Ling, who caught it with one hand and immediately used it to ward off Envy’s snapping maw with a well-timed slice to the nose.

Envy reared back again as blood dripped from their face and a guttural grunt of pain shook the air. The smell of alchemy tickled Ed's nose as red sparks zipped across Envy’s skin, sealing the cut along behind it.

_“I’ve had enough of you worms! Die already!”_ they shrieked, voice resonating unnaturally in a way that ached Ed’s ears and scraped against his skull.

One massive hand shot out and grabbed Ed by his left arm. He let out a yelp as he felt himself get yanked into the air, feet kicking uselessly. He squirmed, curling up around the huge green fist encircling his arm, and tried furiously to claw the fingers loose. Instead of releasing him, Envy pulled him closer to their hideous face and breathed hot, rank air all over him, blowing his bangs in his eyes and causing him to gag. Their fist tightened, and Ed _heard_ his arm break just before he screamed from the pain of it.

_“You’ve been a thorn in my side for too long, pipsqueak,”_ Envy’s terrible voice thundered. _“I’d eat you here and now, except you’d probably give me a hairball.”_

Ed could only hiss and spit in response, his brain staticing out from the pain in his arm, his ribs, all the bruises and breaks and scrapes that covered his body. Envy flung him away like he was a ragdoll, and he rolled when he hit the ground, trying to absorb the impact but only succeeding in jarring his automail and sending even more pain straight down his spine from where his nerves connected to the port.

He couldn’t keep this up. His energy was flagging. Pain was something he was used to enduring -- he was already spitting blood out of his mouth and pushing himself out of the muck on wobbly limbs -- but this was brutal. All he wanted to do was find a small hole to curl up in and wait for the danger to pass.

Ed turned over, and tried to orient himself, seeking out the light from the fire. Envy had thrown him a good distance -- it was a good thing he hadn’t landed on his head, or he probably would have died. The thought was sobering enough to cut through the haze of pain.

The light flickered from Envy’s movements, their huge shadow coming and going, and in one moment where the shadow pulled away, Ed spotted something on the piece of stone in front of him. It was an ancient carving of a sun, and the design sparked something in his memory. He had seen this before, in the ruins of Xerxes. He crawled forward, limping with his broken arm, to examine the carving. Above the sun was a golden lion, mouth open and lunging for the red sun. It was one of the many ways alchemists represented the idea of the philosopher’s stone.

Finally Ed was able to put it together. The Xerxes transmutation circle was a philosopher’s stone array. The one in the fifth lab had been a much simpler, streamlined version, but he could tell it was derivative of this one.

Philosopher’s stones. Human transmutation. Gateways.

Ed’s head shot up as a realization hit him. He scrambled to his feet, a little dizzy and in pain all over, but now with ideas fluttering his brain, too fast to pin down. He started marching back towards Envy, whose ever-shifting form was no longer thrashing around. Which probably wasn’t a good sign, since it meant Ling was no longer giving them hell.

“Hey, ugly!” Ed shouted to garner their attention. “I think I can get us out of here!”

Envy’s massive head swung towards him, and Ed’s eyes widened with panic at seeing Ling being drawn up into their mouth by their hideous tongue, which also seemed to be composed of loosely-combined human shapes. It had ensnared Ling like a viscous liquid, covering his torso up to and over his mouth. He was swinging his sword frantically, but couldn’t land a hit because of the awkward angle.

Ed ran forward, almost tripped on a rock, and watched with horror as Envy’s tongue flowed upwards toward their maw, taking Ling with it. He managed to lock eyes with Ling, and the asshole _waved_ at him with his free hand.

“What are you doing?!” Ed yelled. “Put him down! I can get us out! But not if you eat him!”

Envy’s huge, gross eyes squinted at him, and then they lowered their head, depositing Ling back into the swamp. Their tongue released him and retracted back up into their jaws. Ed hobbled over to Ling as he sat up and examined the saliva dripping off him in thick strands.

“Aw, Ed, why’d you have to do that?” Ling complained with a pout. “I was _this close_ to getting my hands on a philosopher’s stone.”

Envy’s head reared back slightly in offense. Ed just punched Ling in the shoulder with his non-injured hand, which also happened to be the metal one. It didn’t seem to faze the prince though, he just swayed with the impact and then smiled up at Ed.

_“Can you really get us out of here?”_ Envy croaked.

“I think so,” Ed replied, steeling himself. “But I’ll need your help.”

~~~

While Envy collected all the fragments of the Xerxes array per Ed’s request, Ling scrounged up the materials to splint Ed’s broken arm.

The two teens settled down beside the fire once more. Where before it was only their shoes and the hems of their pants soaked in blood, they were now both drenched in it head-to-toe from being tossed around this place. Ed especially had blood everywhere, since he hadn’t gotten a tongue-bath from their local homunculus. He could feel it stiffening as it dried in his hair and in his fur, which was incredibly unpleasant.

Once they sat down, Ed tentatively offered his arm to Ling, who began lining up the branches he’d found from Ed’s wrist to his elbow.

“Sorry I wasn’t more help in that fight,” Ed apologized without looking at the other boy.

Ling tilted his head to the side slightly as he tied the first knot. “I don’t know what you mean. You were ferocious.”

Shame pooled in Ed’s gut as he remembered biting into Envy's flesh, tearing into that moaning human face with his claws. The taste of blood and vomit still lingered on his tongue. Ordinarily, ‘ferocious’ was a compliment, but Ed didn’t like the feeling that had come over him during the battle, the drive to _fight, kill, survive._ It was one thing to kill an animal for survival, but Ed never wanted to take the life of a person, even an artificial one like Envy. Not even to save his own life.

‘Ferocious’ felt a bit too close to ‘feral.’ To ‘beastly.’

“I guess you’re right,” he muttered.

Ling hummed, but offered no further comment. If he noticed Ed’s self-directed bitterness, he didn’t show it.

“Are you okay?” Ed asked, finally peeking at Ling from between his bangs. Ling’s hair was still a bit damp from being in Envy’s mouth, the black strands clinging to his temples where they were too short for or had escaped his ponytail. The firelight danced across the smooth plane of his face, throwing his cheekbones into relief where Ed had never really noticed them before.

“I broke a rib or two, but I’ll survive,” Ling replied, oblivious to Ed’s staring. “Can you really make a way out of here?”

Ed slid his eyes away from the prince’s face and made a fist with his left hand as Ling withdrew, finished with the splint. His arm still hurt like a bitch, but Ed had expected as much. The splint was pretty much just to prevent the bone from shifting before he could get a proper cast on it.

Broken automail could be replaced within a matter of days, but it took weeks and weeks to heal a fracture. Ed was not looking forward to that hospital time. He thought distantly of Greed, and wondered if he would have actually helped Ed with this sort of thing like he had said he would.

“I think so,” Ed said to answer Ling’s question. “I’ve got a theory at least. I’ll explain when Envy comes back with the last piece. Thanks for the help.”

Ling’s smile was like a pinprick of light in the otherwise bleak landscape. “You’re welcome.”

It wasn’t long before Envy was setting down the final chunk of rock with a grunt of effort. They adjusted it with two huge arms, making sure the inscription faced towards the inside of the stone circle they’d been using as a rest spot.

_“There, that should be all of them,”_ Envy said. Their voice still made Ed pin his ears back with unease.

“Thanks,” Ed said tersely. He dropped to his knee beside the stones in order to inspect them. He tried to visualize the rest of the circle that he’d seen when he was in Xerxes, and with these final pieces the full measure of the array clicked into his mind and unlocked some information that felt like it had been buried deep in his soul.

“This array is for more than just creating a philosopher’s stone. The way it was written, it implies something even greater. Whoever created this array in Xerxes wanted enough power to surpass God. You had a hand in it, didn’t you?” Ed asked apprehensively, looking up to scrutinize Envy. “Hundreds of years ago, your ‘father’ turned the entire population of Xerxes into a philosopher’s stone, and that’s how they got wiped out. This is here because you tried to hide the evidence. And now you’re trying to do the same thing in Amestris.”

Envy stared at him unflinchingly. Their lips pulled back over their teeth in a vicious smile and they lowered their head to be eye-level with him. _“I’ll tell you what, pipsqueak,”_ they hissed. _“You get us out of here, and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”_

Ed frowned, but nodded. Equivalent exchange.

“Is that really possible?” Ling asked, clearly morbidly fascinated. “To sacrifice an entire nation like that?”

Ed nodded again.

“Alchemy,” Ling muttered in what sounded like a combination of awe and disgust. “So, what’s the plan to get us out?”

Ed got to his feet and grabbed the piece of cloth he’d taken out of Ling’s overcoat. “My working theory is that if a portal of truth brought us here, then maybe by opening another one, it’ll bring us back out,” he explained as he went to dip the fabric in the blood.

“I’m still not quite clear on what a portal of truth even is. It’s something your father--” Ling pointed at Envy “--wanted to fabricate, which is how Gluttony was created. But what _is_ it?”

“A portal of truth is opened by attempting human transmutation,” Ed said grimly as he began to draw out the shape of a circle on the flat stone. “It takes you to Truth’s domain -- where the gateway is.”

“And what’s ‘Truth’?” Ling asked.

_“What alchemists call ‘Truth’ is what you might call ‘God’,”_ stated Envy.

Ling’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked to Ed for confirmation.

Ed shrugged and kept drawing. “He said the same thing. ‘I am the world, I am the universe, I am God, I am truth, I am you,’ blah blah blah. I’m not a fan of cryptic bullshit.”

“You mean to tell me you’ve physically stepped into God’s domain and had a conversation with him?”

Ed snorted at Ling’s expression. “Not _God_ but probably the closest thing to it,” he argued. “It wasn’t really a conversation, either. It was more of a… transaction, I guess.”

Ling opened his mouth, closed it in reconsideration, and then opened it again to ask, “And what’s the gateway?”

“A huge as fuck stone door filled with nightmares,” Ed deadpanned as he finished the outside circle. He went back for more blood to touch up the spots that were a little more faded.

“And that’s… where we’re trying to go?” Ling asked, seemingly more puzzled than when the conversation began.

“Basically,” Ed admitted. “When you go through the portal, it deconstructs you. When Gluttony ‘swallowed’ us, we were deconstructed from the real world and reconstructed here. I’m hoping that if I open the _real_ portal by transmuting myself, it’ll deconstruct us from here and reconstruct us back in the real world.”

“Okay, I can understand that,” Ling said with a nod. “But you have no idea if this will actually work, right? It’s just a theory?”

Ed grimaced. “Only one way to find out.”

Silence befell the three of them as Ed set about painstakingly drawing out the inner array of his human transmutation circle. He didn’t have his notebook to reference, it was in a hidden compartment in his suitcase back at the hotel, but he didn’t _really_ need it. He’d committed his theory of human transmutation to memory a long time ago, so had plenty to draw from when making this circle. It wasn’t going to be identical to the one he and Al had made when they were kids, anyway. This one had to account for a higher volume of mass from his chimera body, as well as the steel and chromium from his automail.

As Ed was nearing completion, he felt Envy’s gaze prickle the hairs on the back of his neck uncomfortably. He tried to ignore it, until they eventually spoke.

_“What are you planning to pay the toll with, pipsqueak?”_

“Stop calling me that,” Ed snapped. “I’ll figure something out.”

Envy chuffed in amusement and rolled their huge eyes in an exaggerated movement. _“Don’t be an idiot. What if it kills you?”_

Ed grit his teeth. “If that’s what it takes.”

Envy leaned closer and crooned, _“What if it takes your foreign little friend here?”_

Ed’s shoulders stiffened as images flashed through his mind. Al, reaching out to him as his flesh unwound by the molecule, the terror and pain on his young face, a face Ed never saw again. He imagined it was Ling’s face instead. Guilt and sadness and anger pierced his heart all at once, and he snapped his gaze to Envy, who was looking down at him smugly.

_“Why don’t you just use my stone?”_

Ed frowned. “Won’t that hurt you?”

_“Nah.”_ Envy used one clawed hand to push some of the long, greasy strands of their hair out of their eyes. _“I use the stone’s power when I transform, or heal. It doesn’t hurt me.”_

“I promised Al we wouldn’t use philosopher’s stones for ourselves,” Ed said stubbornly, turning back to his array. “Those are human lives! I don’t care that they don’t have bodies anymore, a human soul is a human soul.”

Envy’s hot breath washed over Ed’s back as they bore down on him from behind, causing his spine to stiffen and all of his fur to stand on end. Their voice skittered on the inside of his skull like hundreds of spiders. _“Don’t be an idiot! The souls inside me can never go back to being human! You only want to believe they are because you want to see your brother as human, and because you cling so desperately to your own fragile humanity, chimera.”_

Ed squeezed his eyes shut against their words, but it didn’t stop them from being right.

_“Do you feel remorse when you burn a bundle of wood, mourning the trees they used to be? While the stone is made from humans, all that’s left of them now is energy. Energy that you need if you ever want to see your brother again. If you want to save your prince. Use your head, not your heart, to determine what is and isn’t human, alchemist.”_

“Fine,” Ed snapped, a lump in his throat. “I’ll use your damn stone. If only to make you shut the fuck up.”

Ed turned to get more blood and noticed Ling, sitting cross-legged with his cheek resting on his fist, watching Ed with an expression that he couldn’t read. His eyebrows were pinched but his eyes were wide open for once, and his mouth was tugged down into a frown. As soon as Ed looked his way, Ling closed his eyes and smiled in a way that made Ed suspicious. The change in demeanor had been too quick to be authentic.

“I’m _your_ prince, am I?” Ling teased lightly.

Ed’s cheeks grew hot. “Envy’s words, not mine,” he grumbled as he dipped the cloth again.

Once the final lines and symbols were in place, Ed stood up and threw the cloth down outside the circle. He felt jittery, stomach hollow and heart thudding in his chest. He had no idea if this would work.

“Okay,” he breathed out, trying to calm down. “No point in dawdling. Envy, I need you in the circle with me.”

Envy rose from their loafed position and stepped into the circle, curling their huge body near the outside edge of it, forming a wall with their huge, muscular mass. It didn’t ease Ed’s nerves; if anything it added an edge of feeling trapped, which pinged several alarms in his brain. The mewling of the human faces didn’t exactly help, either.

Something nudged his automail hand, and Ed jerked away reflexively, thinking it was Envy somehow, but when he glanced to his right, he saw Ling standing at his shoulder. Ed relaxed his hand back to where it was, and Ling nudged it again, applying just enough pressure for him to feel it.

Ed fought with the urge to take his hand. Instead he clumsily hooked his index finger around Ling’s pinky. It felt a bit like making a promise, but he wasn’t sure what it was or who was promising who.

“You’ve gotta stand outside the circle,” Ed said apologetically.

Ling nodded and stepped back. His finger slipped out of Ed’s loose grasp, but the promise remained.

“Okay,” Ed said again, voice stronger this time. He cast another glance at Ling. “If this goes wrong, and I don’t make it out, you have to warn people about what these guys are planning.” He jerked his thumb at Envy, who blinked in surprise.

Ling put his hands on his hips. “Afraid I can’t do that. What happens in Amestris is none of my business.”

“What?” Ed said, startled. “You can’t be serious.” And he had finally started to trust Ling a little, too.

Ling smiled that sly smile he had and shrugged. “I guess you’ll just have to get out alive, and warn them yourself.”

Oh, so that was his angle. Ed smiled weakly, a bit relieved. Then he took a deep breath, and reminded himself of the task at hand. He turned towards Envy, scanning the faces that swarmed across their skin.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, flattening his ears in remorse. “I’ll do my best to use you with care.”

He raised his hands, gathered all his focus, and pressed his palms together. He heard the ringing in his mind, felt the power resonate through his body, all the way down into his soul. Then he reached down, and activated the array.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so! i've got the next 2 chapters squared away for a weekly release, and the goal is to have finished writing chapter 28 by the time chapter 26 goes up next tuesday. living the multi-chapter wip life is such a novelty to me; normally my fics are kinda one-and-done but this has evolved into a monster and i'm very thankful to you all for reading, commenting, and kudos-ing. stay safe and i'll see you next week <3


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems like a great time to check in on Roy-boy! :D  
> Bit of a shorter chapter today but it’s a juicy one so I hope you’ll forgive me :3

The play hadn’t worked. Roy had miscalculated, had trusted Gruuman’s information too much, had shown too much of his hand. Now he was sitting in the Fuhrer’s office, fully aware that all the generals stationed in Central had known all along what he had recently learned: King Bradley was a homunculus.

The man in question stood behind his desk with his back to Roy, facing out the window and sipping a cup of tea like all was right with the world.

Roy forced his fingers to relax their tight grip on his knees. He couldn’t show any sign of weakness. He was too deep in the lion’s den for that.

“If I may be so bold as to ask, Your Excellency,” Roy began, tone carefully neutral. “Why keep me alive?”

“You could not learn your lesson if you were dead, soldier,” Bradley replied without turning around.

There was more to it than that, Roy was sure. Lust had called him a ‘potential sacrifice’. They needed him for whatever their plan was. That’s why they had kept Hughes alive, most likely as leverage. He wondered if Bradley would dangle Hughes in front of him now, to try and keep him in line. 

“How long has the military been under the thumb of homunculi like you?” Roy asked, deciding that if Bradley had already made the decision not to kill him, he could at least press for more information, as long as he kept his own cards to himself this time.

“Naive boy,” Bradley chuckled. “Everything in this country has been guided by the hands of homunculi since it’s very inception.”

Roy couldn’t help his physical reaction to that. He winced and swallowed, his mouth dry. Everything in the country? Since its inception? All its millions of citizens over the past three centuries, fighting and living and dying for a country built on fake foundations? Built on lies and unjust wars all for the machinations of a collective of inhuman monsters?

“So you sit in your towers and snicker at the humans toiling away in the dirt for your purposes, is that it?” Roy whispered, hoarse. He glanced up, staring hard at the back of Bradley’s head. “At Brigadier-General Hughes’ funeral, I noticed your hands were shaking -- was that a lie too?”

“So much fuss over the death of one soldier,” Bradley said mildly, punctuating it with a sip of tea. “When he put on that uniform, he knew there was a chance he would be buried in it.”

_ So he’s still operating on the assumption that I think Hughes is dead, and he wants it to stay that way, _ Roy thought, running a mental highlighter across that fact and tucking it away for later.

“General Hughes’ daughters,” Bradley began, voice lower and tighter. “Such undignified screeching. Is there anything more noisy in the middle of a funeral? It really grated on my nerves.”

Bradley finally turned his head, and the look in his eye was pure, unadulterated  _ wrath. _ There was no other word for it. It froze Roy to his seat like a prey animal, staring into this man’s single, furious eye. Hate was etched into every line of his face, and Roy wondered how anyone could ever have believed that this man was human. His hands were trembling again at this moment, causing tremors in the surface of his tea, making Roy understand. The shaking hands hadn’t been an act, Roy had simply misinterpreted the emotion behind them.

“How can you be so callous? Is that how you feel about your own child?” Roy accused, his own temper flaring.

“Selim is much more well-behaved than that. He’s a good boy,” Bradley said, voice relaxing as he faced the window again.

“And what if he were to discover that the father he looks up to so much isn’t even human?” Roy asked darkly, deciding to push his luck.

“Is that a threat? Don’t make me laugh,” Bradley said, amused. “Trying to use him against me wouldn’t work.” Once more, Bradley turned, and this time he set his tea down on the desk as he met Roy’s gaze head-on. “You, on the other hand, have weaknesses with names and faces that I know by rote.”

Roy swallowed again, and felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He thought of Lieutenant Hawkeye, still waiting outside Central Command’s front gate for him to return. He thought of Hughes in a cell somewhere, probably in Central but where, _ where?  _ He thought of his team, hand-picked by him over the years for their unique skills and dedication. He thought of the Elric brothers, the crown jewel of his achievements, children though they might be.

“Right in this moment, your men are learning of their reassignments,” Bradley said with a gleam in his eye. “I’m sure you’ll hear about the specifics later, but I want to personally assure you that I will take excellent care of your first lieutenant.”

Forgetting to keep his composure, Roy’s eyes unfocused as the weight of this hunched his shoulders forward, and he clasped his hands together to keep them from shaking. Bradley was taking them away from him. Taking  _ her _ away from him, the same way they had taken Hughes away. Hostages. Disposable in a way that he wasn’t. He had been too careless, had failed to warn them, protect them. This was his fault.

“I hear that you fancy yourself something of a chess player,” Bradley said, still in a light and genial tone contradictory to what Roy now knew to be his true nature. “How does it feel, to think yourself the king only to realize you were a pawn all along?”

“You’re enjoying this,” Roy realized, stomach churning. He glared at Bradley, despite the clamminess of his palms.

Bradley did nothing to hide his smile. “Is it such a bad thing to enjoy one’s work? To take pleasure in a job well done? This is what I was made for, quite literally. I am fulfilling my purpose, just as you shall fulfill yours when the time comes.”

Roy listened to the Fuhrer of his nation describe his upbringing, groomed and brainwashed from birth to one day become a homunculus and carry out the will of this ‘Father’ figure.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Roy asked, biting off the ‘sir’ he instinctively wanted to tack on at the end. “You were human once -- don’t you want that again?”

“Why would I want that?” Bradley countered. He walked up to Roy’s chair and stood over him, arms crossed behind his back. “I may be getting on in years, but this body -- stronger and faster and  _ better _ than yours in every conceivable way -- has served me well. Just as you have your pride as a human, we have our pride as homunculi. My life may have been laid out for me since the moment I was born, but I wouldn’t change a single aspect of it.”

“That truly is where we differ, then,” Roy muttered, squaring his shoulders. He wasn’t going to take this lying down. 

Adapt to the enemy’s movements and strategies, and use every advantage that you have. He could still come out of this on top. He just had to find a chance to regroup.

“Some would laude you for your tenacity, Colonel,” Bradley said as he took another step, past Roy this time, towards the door of the office. “Personally, I find it rather contemptible.”

“Your opinion has been noted, Your Excellency,” Roy replied whippishly. “Am I dismissed?”

“Curb your enthusiasm. We’re waiting on another party to arrive.”

Roy wiped his sweaty palms on his uniform pants. So had Bradley been stalling this whole time? “Is it within my rights to ask whom, sir?”

“Patience, Mustang.”

Roy clenched his jaw and resigned himself to the dread of waiting.

~~~

Blue light flashed before Ed’s eyes, making his heart race. The last time he had been at the centre of a transmutation circle had been that night at Tucker’s house, and his body remembered.

The blue light shifted to purple, and black shadowy hands began to form around the edge of his circle. In his periphery, he saw Ling take a step back. Even Envy shifted, clearly uneasy.

Ed was not uneasy. Underneath his determination, he was terrified, instincts screaming at him to  _ stop, run, get away  _ from the glowing silver eye opening beneath him.

_ Long time no see, _ he thought sarcastically.

“Okay, Ling, jump in now!” he ordered, not taking his eyes off the portal.

“I’m trusting you!” Ling shouted over the wind swirling out of the circle. 

Ed closed his eyes as he felt himself begin to deconstruct. He could sense Ling, too, at the edge of his circle, and Envy’s huge presence, their hundreds upon hundreds of souls pulsing erratically, like many out-of-sync heartbeats all struggling to be heard. He singled out a few, isolating the heartbeats, and guiltily offered them to the portal.

The portal accepted, and the heartbeats vanished, like candles snuffed out by a violent wind. 

_ Thank you, _ whispered a voice, drifting through Ed’s mind for just a split second.

Then Ed was shredded down to nothing and sent hurtling headfirst through the portal, his mind soaring through the darkness as the knowledge pressed in on him from all sides, trying to dig into him, filling up every crack and crevice and still overflowing -- he heard the creaking of doors and then saw white.

Through the white was a form, outlined in shadows, wearing his right arm and left leg, grinning at him as it had before.

**So we meet again, alchemist.**

Truth’s words reverberated through his soul, speaking in the voice of every person in the world all at once, himself included. But he didn’t have time for Truth’s riddles. He needed  _ out, _ he needed  _ Al. _

**Not even trying to get your body back? Don’t you want to be whole? Don’t you want to be human?**

Ed ignored the sting of that comment and flew right past. That wasn’t why he was here.

The gate spit him out in the white room, and he landed with a grunt on his back.

Immediately, he could tell something was different. He felt… calmer, but also duller, less alert. Smaller, too, but not in the size of his body. Ed sat up, wondering why he felt so  _ less-than. _ Had the portal taken something from him after all? 

In front of him was his gate, an imposing set of closed stone doors etched with the alchemic tree of life. He touched his head, and froze. Where he’d expected to find his ear there was nothing but hair. Trailing his fingers down, he discovered a human ear, small and round. He started to twist around to see if his tail was gone too, but didn’t get that far.

Beside him lay a large cat, eyes staring and pale orange ears swiveling warily. 

It was Alexander.

“Fuck,” Ed rasped, a terrible pang in his heart. “Goddamn it. I knew it.”

He put his hand on Alexander’s fur, hunching over the cat and lowering his head. If Alexander was here, like this, in the realm that existed somewhere between mind and body, then Ed really  _ was _ harboring at least part of Alexander’s soul inside of him. He didn’t know what else it could mean.

If that was the case, then Ed couldn’t give it up. He had felt Alexander’s feelings so deeply that he could hardly distinguish them from his own. The very thought of prying Alexander out of his body and leaving the cat’s soul to vanish forever made his heart ache. He would find a way to live as a chimera. He had to. Even if Alexander wasn’t human, Ed couldn’t take his life. It wasn’t the same as killing and eating a wild rabbit to survive. 

Alexander stood and butted his face against Ed’s cheek in a greeting of familiarity. Ed laughed hollowly at the cat’s lack of understanding. Of course Alexander had no idea what was going on. He was still just an animal. Ed wondered if this was the first time a non-human creature had ever made its way into Truth’s domain.

Ed noticed Alexander freeze, staring at something behind them with ears pricked forwards. He turned to see what it was, and didn’t immediately realize what he was looking at.

About sixty feet from him there was a different set of doors, with a different inscription. Sitting at the foot of the other gate was a person with long, tangled golden hair. Their skin was an unhealthy colour, like they hadn’t seen sun in years, and it clung to their bones like they hadn’t eaten in years either.

Then the person’s head turned, and pure shock flooded Ed’s system as wide but hollow golden eyes gazed back at him. He knew those eyes.

“Al,” he breathed, moving forward without realizing it. 

“AL!” he shouted, scrambling to his feet even as he kept moving forwards. Behind him, he heard the doors creak open and Alexander yowl in alarm. He kept running.

Al’s body slowly got to its feet, and smiled at him, an apologetic crease to its eyebrows. Its cheeks were so sunken; it was basically just a skeleton.

Ed saw the hands in his periphery, shooting out to grab him, and they halted him ten feet from Al’s body, but he fought them, trying to reach it.

“Al!” he cried again, tearing the shadowy tendrils off his automail arm and reaching out, but Al’s body didn’t move.

He kept being dragged backwards, more and more hands wrapping around his arms, his legs, his torso, his neck, his face. Still, he struggled.

“Don’t just stand there!” he yelled, desperate. “Come with me! I can bring you back!”

Al’s body shook its head as Ed got dragged further and further towards his own gate.

“I can’t go with you,” it said softly. It was Al’s voice, unmistakably, but rusty and cracked with disuse. “You’re not my soul.”

“No! No, wait!” Ed screamed, catching the closing edge of his gate and trying to pull himself out of the entangled mass. “Alphonse! I’m coming back for you, I promise!  _ Alphonse! Wait for me!” _

Ed’s grip on the doors slipped and he sunk into the swarming mass of shadows. The gate slammed shut with a ringing sound, and Ed’s world went black once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 27 will be coming next tuesday! *youtuber voice* like comment and subscribe


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the “body horror” tag this chapter :)

The tunnels under Central creaked and groaned and dripped and growled in an unsettling symphony. Numerous pipes threaded through the passages, snaking up the walls and pumping _something_ through them, based on the sounds within. Like the veins of some monstrous beast, the cramped corridors almost seemed to be alive.

Al followed Gluttony, unsettled by the atmosphere but determined to get answers. If there was any chance, _any_ chance at all that he could get Ed back, he would take it, no matter what he had to sacrifice. It’s what Ed would do for him if their situations were reversed.

The tiny panda clung to Al’s collar, clearly even more on edge than he was. He pet her little head with one finger to reassure her, but her body continued to tremble even as Gluttony led them through a door where all the overhead pipes seemed to merge.

The room beyond was vast -- Al looked up but the ceiling was too high to make out in the dim electric light that shone from the walls. At the centre of the room was a stone table and chair that looked like they had been formed out of the ground with alchemy.

Thick cables and pipes lay strewn about the concrete floor and were bolted to the walls, all leading up and connected to various contraptions that Al couldn’t even begin to guess the purposes of. One of these machines hung above the centre of the room where the stone chair sat empty.

“We’re here!” Gluttony cried cheerfully, flinging his arms wide open to gesture to the room.

“Here?” Al repeated, jolted by surprise. “Already? This is where your father is?”

“Yup!” Gluttony grinned innocently at Al, and then pointed past the chair and the dangling cables to a staircase that led up to a landing and then split into two more staircases to the right and left. Standing on the landing was a man whose visage was striking in its familiarity. Al hadn’t seen him in ten years, but he had spent enough time studying the photograph of his crying face to recognize him immediately.

“Dad?” Al whispered in disbelief.

“Gluttony, what have you brought into my sanctum?” Hohenheim asked, voice dull and dry.

“I brought a sacrifice, Father!” Gluttony exclaimed happily.

Before anyone could respond, Gluttony suddenly began to scream and writhe.

Al watched on, helpless and horrified, as Gluttony clawed at his stomach, wailing as red alchemic sparks tore through him. Just like last night, in the forest outside the city, a seam split down his torso from chin to navel, widening to reveal the unblinking eye of the portal, surrounded by teeth and soul-sucking darkness. This didn’t seem voluntary, though. Gluttony was still screaming, high-pitched howls of agony, and then the _eye itself_ split open.

A monstrous hand, green-skinned and clawed and even bigger than Gluttony himself burst out of the portal. Attached to the hand was a similarly massive arm, emerging behind it. Then another arm burst out, and another.

Gluttony’s blood spilled across the floor, and his screams were punctuated by the cracking of bone and the tearing of muscle.

Like the most unnatural, disastrous birth, a huge monster emerged from Gluttony’s stomach, clawing itself into the world and collapsing onto the ground, heaving with the effort.

Al stared, paralyzed, at the swarms of mutilated human faces growing from the monster’s skin like scabs.

 _What is this thing?_ he wondered, aghast.

In scanning the creature’s body, Al spotted something that lay, entangled, in the human-shaped slop of the monster’s skin.

“Brother!” Al exclaimed, shocked but jubilant. He rushed over and pushed the loose, gently squirming bits of green flesh off of Ed’s body.

To Al’s dismay, Ed was covered in blood. His once-navy button-up shirt was now black and tacky, and there was blood crusting on his face like he’d been dunked in it, not to mention his hair and fur. He was missing his left boot and his left arm was tied in a ramshackle splint, a clumsy attempt at first aid for what Al could only assume was a multitude of injuries.

Ed’s eyes blinked open, and his ears pricked up when he managed to focus on Al.

“Alphonse,” Ed breathed with a hazy grin. “You’re back in your armor and I’m a chimera, which means…”

Ed laughed nonsensically and held his fist out to Ling, similarly entangled to the right of Ed, who bumped it with his own.

“We made it out,” Ling finished.

Al didn’t waste time asking what Ed meant, he just scooped his older brother up in a tight hug, overwhelmingly relieved to see him again. “Brother! You’re okay!”

“Ow ow ow ow ow!” Ed hissed, smacking Al’s shoulder repeatedly. “Let me go! I’m glad to see you too but you’re hurting me!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Al set Ed down gingerly and then lowered himself onto his knees to be the same height. Then he lowered himself further, still clinging to Ed’s blood-stained shirt like he was a small child. He had _felt_ like a small child, desperately wishing for his older brother to come back and save him. And now, here he was. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, voice trembling. “I thought… I thought you were dead… And I was never gonna see you again.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Ed pushed on Al’s shoulders, forcing him to sit up and look at him. “I’m alive. I’m here. I’m sorry I worried you.”

Al simply nodded, unable to find the words to show how grateful he was for Ed’s strength.

Ed glanced around, and Al watched his pupils grow and then shrink back down to slits. “Where are we, anyway? This place feels disgusting.”

“Feels disgusting how?” Al inquired.

“I feel it too,” Ling said, gripping his sword tightly. “I think it’s coming from him,” he added, nodding to the man who looked like Dad.

“Now this is a surprise,” the man said as he descended the steps towards the group. “An arm and leg made of metal, and a body of armor… You two wouldn’t happen to be the Elric brothers, would you?”

Ed bristled as the man approached. “Hohenheim?!” he spat from between clenched teeth, seeing the same resemblance Al had. He sniffed the air, and held his arms up in a defensive position. “You even smell like him. But how could you not recognize…?”

The man stopped a few feet away, and Ed inched back a step, ears back and tail flicking.

“Yes, Envy had said that you had been transmuted into a chimera,” the man carried on, reaching out and taking Ed’s face in his hands, dragging him closer. Al made a noise of protest and Ed wriggled furiously, tugging at the man’s wrists and trying to pull away, but he didn’t budge.

“Hmmm,” the man hummed, inspecting Ed’s face. “Well, you can still perform alchemy, can you not? The form you take shouldn’t matter as long as your gate is open.”

He released Ed and began stroking his beard. Then he paused, and looked back at the bewildered brothers.

“Hold on a moment, that name you said. Hohen… Hohenheim. Do you mean Van Hohenheim? What is your relation to him?” the man asked, stepping closer again, this time leaning into Al’s space.

“He’s, um, our father,” Al stammered, unsure what to make of this strange doppelganger. He clearly wasn’t _their_ father, but did that mean he was the one the _homunculi_ called ‘Father’?

Father’s so far dour expression brightened unexpectedly, breaking out into a smile. “Your father! That _is_ a surprise! I had no idea he had children, he must be so pleased,” he said with a laugh, patting Ed between the ears in an overly-familiar gesture that Ed clearly did not appreciate.

“Don’t touch me,” Ed hissed, backing away again. “Who the fuck are you, anyway? Are you like his twin brother or something?”

“I see now, your arm is broken,” Father said, ignoring Ed’s questions completely. He closed his hand around Ed’s splinted left forearm and yanked him close again. Ed yelped in pain, but couldn’t free himself from the man’s grip.

Desperate, Ed twisted his head and sunk his teeth into Father’s arm. When the man still didn’t let go, Ed’s eyes filled with a feral sort of panic. Before Al could step in, red sparks danced along Ed’s arm where the man was holding him. Once the sparks died down, Father released him. Ed immediately jerked away and hid bodily behind Al, which was something he never really did. Usually when Ed was being shielded by Al’s body, it was because Al had to forcefully insert himself between Ed and the thing that was trying to kill him.

“Do you make a habit of biting people when they are attempting to help you?” Father asked. Al had the feeling the question was rhetorical.

“Are you okay, brother?” Al asked, glancing under his arm to where Ed was staring at Father and clutching his left arm.

“It… doesn’t hurt anymore,” admitted Ed, suspicious.

“Where else are you injured?” Father inquired. “Come forward, and I will heal you.”

“Fat chance,” Ed spat. “I don’t want you anywhere near me. What _are_ you?”

“Chimeras are so erratic,” Father sighed. “I would rather not deal with them. Perhaps I should reverse the transmutation, if you will not cooperate as you are.”

“You can do that?” Al gasped.

Father looked at him, and for the first time, Al realized with a jolt that while Father only looked middle-aged in appearance, he had the eyes of someone far, _far_ older. “Of course.”

“You can’t,” Ed growled. “He’ll die.”

“I will not allow you to die,” Father said, and though the words should have been reassuring, the tone they were delivered in made them much more ominous.

Al glanced at Ed again, and wondered why he was behaving so strangely. Didn’t he want to reverse the chimera transmutation? He understood not wanting to trust this Father guy, but this was the first time they had gotten any sort of conformation that reversing it was even possible.

“I will only waste my power on returning you to your human state if you will not come forward and let me heal your remaining injuries,” Father stated.

“How are you able to heal me at all?” Ed probed.

“Come forward,” Father said simply in lieu of an answer.

Reluctantly, Ed slunk out of Al’s shadow. “Wait, brother, don’t you want…?” Al trailed off when Ed started shaking his head.

“I’ll tell you later,” the older brother mumbled. “Healing only,” he said to Father.

“Very well.” Father placed his hands on Ed’s torso, causing him to stiffen. Al didn’t like watching Ed so uncomfortable while this creepy, probably-not-human man touched him.

Ed flinched when Father found his ribs. More red sparks flared up around the stranger’s hands and then he removed them, stepping back to give Ed a final once-over with his eyes.

Ed poked and prodded at the place where Father had touched him, and then squinted at him suspiciously. “How come you can--”

“The two of you are precious to me as resources,” Father said, barrelling over Ed’s speech. “I would ask that you refrain from any dangerous activities that would put your lives at risk, and try to keep your health up.”

Al leaned over to whisper to his brother. “That was alchemy, right? But he didn’t even make a circle with his hands before he touched you.”

“I know,” Ed whispered back, not taking his eyes off the man, who was still looking at them with impassive, pale yellow eyes. “There’s something really fucking weird about him. I felt the same thing when I was near Hohenheim, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence. We can’t trust this guy.”

“I’ll say,” agreed Ling, who staggered to his feet a few paces away. He looked even worse than Ed had -- not only was he blood-soaked and clutching his side like he was in pain, he was also hunched and wobbling like each step was a great effort. His face, normally so carefree, was battered and angry. “You. Father of the homunculi. Give me the secret to immortality!”

Father didn’t so much as blink, even when Ling lifted his hand and shakily pointed the sword at his face.

“And who are you meant to be?” he asked, with just the barest hint of inflection to indicate it was actually a question.

“My name is Ling Yao, crown prince of the Yao clan and twelfth son of the Emperor of Xing,” Ling declared loudly, and though he looked as though he could pass out at any second, his voice did not waver. “I order you to answer my questions regarding immortality!”

“If you are not an alchemist, then you are no use to me,” Father said blandly. He turned around and began walking back towards the steps. “Envy, escort the Elric brothers upstairs. Gluttony, you may eat the other one.”

“NO!” Ed exploded, before even Ling could react. “You can’t do that! He’s our friend -- if you want us to be happy you can’t kill him!

“Perhaps you misunderstood me.” Father stopped where he stood, and looked over his shoulder at the brothers huddled protectively around Ling. His eyes were cold and distant. “As long as you are alive, you are useful to me. Your ‘happiness’ has no factor in my equation. If this human serves no purpose, then Gluttony may eat him.”

“I hate people like you,” Ling said between clenched teeth. “You have no respect for others. You think just because you have a little power that everyone else is beneath you. You consider human beings weak, don’t you?”

Father tilted his head. “If you, while walking along the road, happened to spot an ant crawling in your path, would you stop to consider how weak it is?” he asked. “The disparity between human beings and myself is one that I have no need to qualify, for it is apparent. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

“I won’t let you get away!” Ed shouted, pointing at the man. “You have to answer for what you’ve done! The fifth lab, the chimera experiments, Ishval, Xerxes -- all of it! I won’t let you hurt any more people!”

Edward clapped his hands together, and the fight began.

~~~

Ling’s transformation was horrible to watch.

After he demanded that nobody interfere, the philosopher’s stone entered his body, and he began convulsing violently. His choked noises of pain mingled with the crackle of the stone’s blood-red alchemy and the horrible organic sounds of a body tearing itself apart from the inside. His skin peeled and flaked away in a squarish pattern typical of alchemically-altered compounds, and then a wave of red sparks rippled over him, leaving fresh skin in its place.

Eventually Ling coughed blood onto the concrete floor, and that was when he began to scream.

Even Envy, who proclaimed to enjoy watching others suffer, shifted uncomfortably above the captive Elric brothers.

After what felt like an hour but was only probably a few minutes, the alchemic light died down, and the room went quiet, save for Ling’s laboured breathing.

“Ling!” Ed cried out hopefully. Envy put a little more of their weight on him for it, crushing the breath out of his body.

“Who? Oh, you must mean the guy I got this body from,” Ling said as he sat up, but the voice was all wrong. The expression was all wrong, too, grin sharp and eyes relaxed when normally he was keen eyes and loose smiles. It was still Ling’s face, but whoever this was wore it differently. He tugged at the bandage on the back of his hand until it came free, revealing a red ouroboros tattoo. “Interesting kid. Let me in without so much as lifting a finger, so to speak.”

“You’re lying,” Ed croaked. What had all the screaming been for if it wasn’t Ling fighting for control? “Ling wouldn’t give up like that.”

Not-Ling’s grin widened, and it _definitely_ wasn’t Ling’s smile, for it lacked all subtly. Still, it was familiar to Ed in some way, like he had seen it before, on a different face.

“I’m Greed the Avaricious. I’m selfish as hell, but I don’t lie.”

“Greed?” Al repeated in surprise. “But then… how? Does that mean you know us?”

“How the hell would I know you?” Greed snorted, pushing himself to his feet and frowning down at Ling’s pants, stiff with blood. “Maybe you knew the previous Greed, but I’m different. Hey Pops, can I get a costume change?”

“No,” Ed spat, squirming with a renewed effort. “No! I know he’s in there! He… he has to be! He has people waiting for him! LING!”

“‘Fraid not, sorry,” said Greed, spreading his arms and still grinning lazily. His irises were a deep violet, where Ling’s had been nearly black, before. “Like I said, he pretty much just let me have this body. Your friend is gone, kid.”

Gone. Ling couldn’t be _gone,_ he’d just been here! Not even hours ago Ed and Ling had talked about their mothers, about important things, and there had been a promise, unspoken but _real,_ Ed hadn’t imagined it.

This was just like Maria Ross. Ling wasn’t _gone,_ just taken away. Ed could get him back. He _had_ to.

From behind Envy, Ed heard the high-pitched, cut-off squeal of an animal dying. He flicked his ear towards the sound before turning his head to see Scar, covered in viscera and holding a chimera (not a human one, thankfully) in his deadly right hand. Beside him was the little Xingese girl that had helped him escape at the trainyard the day before. What the hell were _they_ doing here?

“I grow weary of all these intrusions upon my home,” Father said blandly. He looked between the three homunculi, and gave the order.

“Kill them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hfhrhgbfgfg next tuesday, next chapter. love you stay safe bye


	28. Chapter 28

For some reason, even though Scar and the little girl had no problems using their alchemy, Ed had to face Greed without his. Whenever he tried to clap his hands, it felt dull; there was no power behind it anymore, no ringing in his ears as the alchemy sang through his veins like it usually did. It left him feeling hollow; bereft.

That wasn’t the only reason this fight was different from the one he’d had with Greed in Dublith. Now they were closer in height, (Ed was still shorter; annoying but not surprising) and Greed moved with a speed and agility that he’d had to make up for with strength and durability, before.

Ed dodged an onslaught of jabs from Greed’s hardened, pointed fingers, eyes angrily pinned to the homunculus’. Al and Scar had left the room with Envy and Gluttony in pursuit, but Al could take care of himself. As far as Ed cared, it was just him and Greed -- and Ling, somewhere deep down.

“I know you’re still in there, Ling,” Ed growled as he parried a hit with his automail and switched to offense. “I’ve seen how stubborn you are! I know you didn’t pester Al and I for two days non-stop when we met just to let this shithead take over you without a fight!” He landed a blow to Greed’s stomach, but his automail jarred like he’d punched steel. It was that damn shield.

“I’m tellin’ you kid, ain’t no one here but me,” Greed shot back with another too-wide grin.

They traded a few more blows as Greed tried to unbalance Ed and Ed expertly blocked every maneuver, his whole body alight with adrenaline as he twisted through the familiar motions of combat. Block, dodge, see an opening, _attack._

“I don’t _believe you!”_ Ed yelled, punctuating his statement with a right cross that had enough force behind it to make Greed stumble backwards. In that moment, Ed felt his eyes sharpen and his tail lift as he saw his chance. He pounced on Greed, bringing the homunculus to the ground with the whole weight of his body, claws digging into his shoulders.

“Did you forget, Ling?” Ed spat, digging his claws in even harder. Greed wasn’t grinning anymore. “Did you forget about all the people you were going to help? Your clan? _Lan Fan?”_

For a moment, just a moment, something like surprise flashed across Greed’s face -- no, it was Ling’s face, puppeted by Greed. But for a split second, the antagonism and pain was replaced with a wide-eyed look of recognition. Then it was gone, and Greed was scowling at him even harder than before.

Greed grabbed Ed’s left wrist and tore it away from his shoulder, twisting Ed’s arm in a way that made the alchemist yelp. From there Greed wrestled Ed into a painful hold where Ed was flat on his back and unable to move for the strain Greed was applying to his arm and shoulder.

“Alright, Pops, I caught him! What now?” Greed called to Father in a voice so cheerful it could almost pass for Ling’s were it not for the accent. Ed’s head spun with anger, hot and bitter.

“Send him upstairs to see Wrath,” Father said. He hadn’t moved at all from his spot, even when the room had erupted around him from Scar’s alchemy. “I’m sure once he speaks to the brothers, they’ll be much better behaved.”

Greed released Ed from the hold as Envy lumbered back into the room, dragging Al by his arm. Ed rubbed his wrist as he stood up, still eyeing Greed. He still had blood caked on him from Ling’s jaunt through Gluttony’s stomach, and little flyaway hairs stuck out here and there. Greed leaned most of his weight on one foot and let his hip jut out at an angle while he folded his arms and frowned at Ed -- it was a far cry from the way Ling held himself, always balanced and ready to move.

“You can quit staring anytime,” Greed drawled, violet eyes focused and unblinking in a way that Ed read as a challenge.

“I know he’s still in there,” Ed repeated, meeting the gaze without flinching.

Greed rolled his eyes and blew a puff of air out of his mouth to move his bangs out of the way. “Believe what you want.”

Ed and Al were made to follow Envy after they shrunk back down into their usual toned, long-haired self. Greed, Gluttony, and Father stayed behind, and when Ed glanced over his shoulder, he saw Greed’s head turn quickly away, like he had just been looking in their direction. Ed hadn’t imagined that moment where Ling's expression had shone through. He _was_ still in there.

Suddenly distracted by something, Ed twitched an ear in Al’s direction as they walked -- the clank his armor made sounded different. He decided not to comment right then, not in front of Envy.

The brothers were led to an elevator, and Ed felt his stomach drop when the elevator doors opened right into the familiar corridors of Central Command. On the way up, Envy had adopted the guise of a male soldier with dirty blonde hair and weaselly eyes, and they quickly scanned the empty hallway before gesturing for the Elrics to follow.

“You have ten minutes to get cleaned up before I take you to Wrath,” Envy said in a low voice, gesturing to the door of the men’s showers. “I’ll get you a change of clothes, pipsqueak. Maybe you’ll finally wear a uniform?”

Ed scrunched his nose and flattened his ears. “As if. And enough with the ‘pipsqueak’ shit. Unless you want me to start calling you ‘tall green and ugly’.”

“Just try it, you runty little punk,” Envy snarled.

Ed snarled back, baring his fangs, but before he could get out any more insults, Al took him firmly by the shoulders and steered him into the showers.

“Ooookay,” said the younger Elric, preventing further argument.

The door swung shut behind them and Ed shrugged Al’s hands away as he slunk over to the rack of clean towels. The weight of everything he’d learned today, about the Homunculi, their plans, _himself_ as a chimera… it was pressing down on his shoulders like lead bars.

Al took a seat on the floor so he didn’t have to stoop for the ceiling while Ed got ready for his shower. When he stepped under the spray he sighed quietly and lowered his head until his forehead touched the cold tile while the warm water cascaded down his shoulders and back, quickly soaking his fur in a way that made showers a lot less pleasant than they used to be.

Red tinted water swirled around Ed’s feet as some of the caked blood began to rinse off of his body. He stared at it numbly, not moving.

_Blood. Hurt-but-not. Sad? Scared?_

Ed pinned his ears back and tried to sort out what he was feeling.

He tentatively formed the thought, _Alexander?_

All he got for that was a vague sense of confusion, frustration and _me, not-me._

Everything was too jumbled up, he couldn’t pick apart where his feelings were coming from or what could be attributed to who. Seeing Alexander in the white room had been such a shock, because he thought maybe that meant the two of them could be distinguished even in this hybrid body, but it seemed like here in the real world they were still too closely wound together to even begin to separate whose thoughts were whose, let alone communicate.

Ed began scrubbing at his hair, careful not to let the water get inside his ears as he did. More crimson droplets spread in the thin sheet of water surrounding the drain, but this time he closed his eyes against the sight of it.

“Hey, Al?” Ed finally said after several minutes of silent washing.

“Yeah?”

“In order to get out of Gluttony’s stomach, I had to pass through the gate again,” Ed began, still facing the wall. “While I was in there… I saw your body.”

Al made a surprised noise in place of a gasp that he could not achieve without lungs. “You… you did? So it’s just been… sitting there, the whole time?”

The shake in Al’s voice made Ed’s stomach tighten unpleasantly. Protected from his brother’s sight by the shower stall, Ed hugged his arms to his bare chest and leaned against the wall again, savouring the almost-painful chill of the cold tile.

“What did it… he... what did I look like?”

Ed swallowed. What was he supposed to say? That Al’s body had looked barely alive? Guilt was an ugly rat that had long made itself at home inside him, and now he could feel it gnawing away at his organs.

“Well you weren’t rotting or anything, so don’t worry about that,” Ed replied, trying to keep his tone light. His teeth were beginning to chatter, so he pulled back from the tile and warmed himself under the spray one final time before shutting off the water.

“Your body told me it couldn’t come with me, because I wasn’t its soul,” Ed continued as he grabbed the towel he’d put on the hook just outside the stall. “Which means that we can definitely pull it out of there, you just have to be there to take it yourself.”

Ed stepped out of the shower and started to pat himself down with the towel, but paused when he noticed Al was hunched over with his helmet cradled in his hands.

“I’m so relieved that it’s still there,” Al whispered, voice wavering. “My body… I can still get it back.”

_Younger-family sad. Comfort?_

Ed flattened his ears in sympathy and wrapped the towel around his waist as he approached his brother and put a hand on one armored shoulder. He patted Al gently, just enough that he would know Ed was there. “Yeah, we’ll get it back,” he murmured.

A scent tickled Ed’s nose, now that blood was no longer clinging to every inch of his body, and he leaned closer to Al to get a better whiff. It was unmistakably human, but young and female, too. Apprehensive, he opened his mouth to ask Al why he smelled like a little girl, but Al was quicker.

“What about you?” Al asked, lifting his head. “Did you see your body too? Did you learn anything that might help you reverse the chimera transmutation?”

Ed looked away and frowned at the floor. “I-- yeah, kinda. I sort of saw Alexander.”

Al lowered his hands to the floor, and Ed could feel his brother staring at him.

“What do you mean, you _saw_ Alexander?”

Ed hesitated, and rolled his left shoulder, which was aching a bit from the way Greed had grappled him earlier. Now that he was warm and clean, he could feel soreness and hunger and exhaustion beginning to set in. In the span of close to eighteen hours he hadn't slept, he’d been in multiple perilous fights, and he hadn’t had anything to eat except for half of a leather boot. Whenever he finally saw a bed again, he was going to sleep for a week. Hell, he’d even take a nice carpeted floor.

Before he could start to answer Al’s question, the door to the showers opened and Envy’s soldier persona peeked his head in.

“Alright Elric, here,” Envy muttered, thrusting a folded set of civilian’s clothes towards Ed. “Might be a bit big on you but that’s not my problem.”

Ed’s tail twitched, but he came forward to accept the clothes. “You and everyone else can stop making comments about my height literally whenever.”

Envy’s eyes gleamed and they smiled. “You got it, furball!” they said cheerfully before ducking out of the room again.

Ed fumed at that for about five seconds before deciding it was still an improvement on ‘pipsqueak’.

“So?” Al prompted impatiently.

“So, what?” Ed returned grumpily, moving over to the sinks. He set the clothes down and started combing through his hair in the mirror, using his fingers for lack of a brush.

“So, do you think it’s possible to undo? That Father guy seemed pretty confident that he could return you to normal.”

“I don’t know Al, all I can do is speculate,” Ed said tiredly. “Chimeras don’t survive the separation process, you know that. And even if there was a way that would allow me to survive -- with or without beardie the bastard -- I know now that Alexander’s soul is fused to mine, or something, so he would die if we were separated.” Saying it out loud caused a fearful tightening of his stomach.

_Can’t-won’t die. Must live._

“His soul? Really?”

Ed sighed and began braiding his still-wet hair. “It’s the only explanation I can think of. Don’t worry about me, though. Let's focus on your body.”

“And your arm and leg,” Al added.

Ed nodded, just to appease him. He really couldn’t care less about his arm and leg. Automail had its pros and cons (pros like being able to replace it when it was damaged, cons like nerve reconnections, the strain it put on his body, the awful throbbing in his stumps that came and went like weather) but he’d made his peace with it. He gave his arm to save Al’s life, and he’d give the other to make him happy. But he knew that Al didn’t want him to give up anything else for him, which was why he insisted on including Ed’s limbs when they talked about getting his body back.

He dried his fur as best he could since Envy was impatiently knocking on the door every ten seconds, but the clothes he’d been provided still clung uncomfortably to his damp fur, making him squirm. As Al stood up, that scent caught Ed’s attention again, and he grabbed his brother’s arm before he could exit the shower room.

“Hey, is there something you wanna tell me?” Ed whispered. He knocked on Al’s chestplate, and the echo was duller than normal.

Al shifted uncomfortably and glanced furtively at the door. “I’ve got the girl who was with Scar,” he whispered back. “She’s tired and hurt. We can’t let these guys find out about her, or else…”

Ed frowned but nodded. “I wish you’d told me before I started getting undressed all willy-nilly,” he muttered, irritated. “But I understand. We’ll get her some help.”

“Thank you, brother,” Al whispered, dipping his head gratefully.

Ed flicked his ear in acknowledgement and walked past Al to shove open the door. “Alright,” he announced to Envy, who was waiting just outside. “Let’s get this over with.”

Envy just rolled their eyes and turned sharply on their heels. “Finally. This way.”

Ed and Al exchanged one final look before following. Ed had a sinking feeling in his stomach that it was going to be a while before he finally got his nap.

~~~

After the disastrous meeting with Fuhrer Bradley (AKA _Wrath,_ what the hell) and Colonel Mustang, Ed and Al rushed to the phone booth outside Central Command to call Winry. Ed’s heart hadn’t stopped pounding since Bradley had so casually threatened her, and he _needed_ to know that she was okay.

“Meet me at my office as soon as you can,” Mustang had ordered sharply just before they ran off with his change.

Standing in a booth on the edge of a small park, Ed clumsily rang up the number for Garfiel’s shop, hands shaking and heart in his throat.

 _“Hello! You’ve reached Garfiel’s Atelier,”_ chirped Winry’s familiar voice.

“Winry!” Ed blurted, clutching the receiver tightly to his cheek. “Are you okay? How is everything?”

_“Huh? Ed? Everything’s fine. What’s the matter?”_

Ed slumped against the side of the phonebooth, light-headed with relief. “You’re sure? You haven’t noticed anything… I don’t know, weird or out of the ordinary? Nobody’s following you or…?”

_“Ed, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”_

Ed swallowed and glanced at Al, who was shaking his head almost frantically. Telling her that she might be in danger would only put her in more danger.

“I just… randomly and for no reason wanted to check up on you, that’s all,” Ed muttered, wincing at his own unconvincing lie.

 _“Ed,”_ Winry said sternly, and he could just imagine the way she was standing, one hand on her hip and eyebrows pinched with consternation. _“Tell me why you really called. Do I need to come up there? I’ll get on a train today if you--”_

“No,” Ed interrupted. “Stay in Rush Valley. The truth is... um...” He scrambled to come up with something that would ease her concerns and prevent further questions.

“Say you had a nightmare about her,” Al suggested in a hushed voice.

Ed nodded. “I, uh. Had a nightmare. While I was napping. So I just wanted to hear you say you were okay.”

For a second there was silence on the other end, and Ed worried his lip between his teeth. He glanced again at Al, who shrugged helplessly.

 _“Oh,”_ Winry said, eventually. _“I see. Well, like I said, everything’s fine, so you don’t have to worry about me! I’m sorry that you’re having nightmares.”_

Ed let out the breath he’d been holding, glad that she seemed to believe him. “Yeah. Sorry to bother you over something stupid like that.”

 _“It’s not a bother at all! You should call me more often, in fact, and not just when you have bad dreams. It’s good to hear from you. You should come visit, too, when you have time. Your automail doesn’t have to be broken for you to see me,”_ she said pointedly. _“Is Al there?”_

“Yeah, but we have to get going. I’ll tell him you said hi. Stay safe, okay? Later, Winry.” Ed hung up the phone without waiting for a response and let out another shuddery sigh.

“This is really serious, brother,” Al said somberly. “We’re going to have to be a lot more careful from now on.”

“I know,” Ed muttered. All at once he was hit with the frustration and the guilt and the helplessness; it all piled up on top of his exhaustion and created a noxious solution that made him want to hit something. Instead he dug his fingers into his own scalp, clawing at his hair, and let out a cry of anger. “AUGH! I hate this!”

“Stop it!” Al cried. He grabbed Ed’s arms and pried his hands away from his skull. “You’re going to hurt yourself! I know you’re frustrated, I am too! But that’s no reason to act like-- like--!”

Ed went slack in his brother’s grip and lowered his head. Guilt continued to boil him alive from the inside. “You’re right,” he murmured. He felt pathetic. He was the older brother, not Al, so why was Al always the one who handled things so well?

As Al released him, Ed heard a rustle in the bushes behind them. When he turned to look, he saw Ling step out onto the path, decked out in a spiffy new all-black ensemble that Ed had to admit he looked great in.

“Ling!” Ed exclaimed, his despair momentarily pushed aside by relief. He quickly closed the gap between them, and reached out instinctively, but was halted by Ling’s raised hand in a gesture of ‘come no closer.’

“It’s Greed,” the boy corrected. “But I _am_ here on business for the brat.”

Ed balled his hands into fists as he looked into Greed’s cold violet eyes. He looked so disinterested and distant compared to Ling. He smelled different too, though that was a much subtler change. Standing this close to him made Ed’s fur prickle, the same way it did with the other homunculi and their _restless-danger-strong_ Father.

“What kind of business?” Al asked as he stepped up beside his brother.

“I’m supposed to give you this,” Greed explained as he reached into the inside of his black overcoat and pulled out a long strip of bloody fabric. “It’s for the girl. I can’t remember what he said her name was.”

“Lan Fan,” Al said as Ed took the piece of fabric. The blood on it was smeared in a very deliberate way that Ed recognized as Xingese characters.

“What does it say?” Ed asked, glancing back up at Greed.

The homunculus shrugged. “Dunno, don’t care. I can’t read that crap.”

Ed perked up, ears twitching forwards. If Greed didn’t write it, that meant Ling must have. “I knew that Ling was still in there, somewhere,” he said, searching Greed’s face for any trace of his friend. “You hear me, Ling? You better not waste too much time getting your body back from this bozo.”

“Don’t talk to him, you’re dealing with _me_ now,” Greed snapped. There was something uneasy in his expression though, which was interesting. “And quit staring at me with those freaky eyes. Damn.”

Ed blinked in surprise. Being under Ed’s gaze seemed to make Greed uncomfortable for some reason. “You’re one to talk,” he pointed out with a frown.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all freaks here. I gave you the message, so my work is done. See you around, weirdos.” Greed turned around and gave a lazy flick of his wrist in farewell before stalking back off the path and into the trees.

“I wonder what that was about,” Ed muttered. He looked at the message one more time, then folded up the fabric carefully and handed it to Al to hang on to.

“C’mon, we should go meet up with Colonel Mustang,” Al said, nudging Ed’s arm.

Ed shifted his weight from foot to foot, deliberating. Now that he’d heard from Winry, his thoughts drifted to the other girl he would do anything to protect -- Nina. What if Bradley had threatened Winry as misdirection, and was going after Nina right now?

“Go without me,” Ed said as he started to walk in the direction of the Hughes home. Al kept pace with him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Al argued. “I know he isn’t your favourite person, but we need the Colonel’s help. You should be there, and talk to him yourself.”

Ed flattened his ears. “It’s not that. I have to check on Nina. You go to Mustang, and get that girl the help she needs. I’ll meet up with you later and then we can talk.”

Al’s step faltered, like he was caught between listening to Ed or following him anyway. In the end he said, “Okay, I’ll see you later, then,” and turned in the direction of the court martial building where Mustang’s office was.

That taken care of, Ed picked up his pace, practically sprinting through the streets to avoid people staring at his ears until he reached the Hughes apartment building. He climbed the familiar steps and reached the door, heart pounding one again. When he sniffed the air, he couldn’t smell blood, which gave him some small consolation. Still, he wouldn’t be able to rest until he saw for himself that Nina was okay.

He lifted his hand and knocked. He waited a few seconds, then knocked again. There was no answer. No movement from behind the door, either.

He began to panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im taking a small hiatus until august due to real life stuff. see ya then!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, remember this story? jeez. i've been sitting on this chapter for months, having it mostly written with the exception of the very last scene. it might be a while before i update again ksfgnsfjkg i have my mind on other projects.... anyway as always thank you for reading and leave me a comment if you enjoy <3 comments keep me thinking about this fic and i'm more likely to keep writing it if i'm thinking about it lol
> 
> also this chap has a lot of mustang & ed interaction so unfriendly reminder that if you ship them you're not welcome here <3 love and light

Ed tried the handle, but the door to the Hughes apartment was locked. He rattled the door frantically.

“Gracia? It’s me, Edward,” he called out. “Nina?”

The apartment responded with silence.

 _Shit, fuck,_ Ed thought, still twisting the handle ineffectually. Was he too late? Did Bradley get them?

He took a step back and clapped his hands together. He didn’t expect it to work, but to his surprise he felt the alchemy respond. Whatever Father had done to him beneath the city to stop his alchemy must’ve worn off. He reached out to the door and separated the wood around the handle in a perfect circle, leaving the door to swing freely while the handle remained in place, held to the frame by the lock.

Ed shoved his way past the door and glanced around the empty apartment. He sniffed the air, and the familiar, lingering scent told him that the girls had been there recently. There were no unfamiliar scents of anyone else, and no sign of any struggle, which did ease his nerves a little bit. But they were still gone. Maybe Gracia had gotten a phone call that had coerced them out into the open. Maybe they were already dead, or locked up somewhere.

 _Or maybe they just went to the store,_ the logical part of his mind reasoned. He paced back and forth on the carpet. Should he go looking for them? Should he leave a note? Should he just wait here?

_Find kitten-sister-friend, protect her._

Ed turned sharply in his pacing back towards the door and determinedly walked out. He wasn’t going to be able to track them by smell, since as soon as he stepped out of the building his nose would be overpowered by car fumes and all the other harsh smells of a metropolis. That wasn’t going to deter him, though.

As Ed came down the stairs of the apartment complex in a hurry, his heart leapt as he saw Gracia walk into the lobby. His eyes quickly darted to her side and sure enough, Nina was there, walking hand-in-hand with Elicia.

He almost felt giddy, seeing her again. It’d been a couple weeks, and his first instinct was to curl up around her and start purring. Instead he jumped the last two steps, landing with ease and causing Gracia to jerk her head towards him in surprise.

“Oh, Edward,” she exclaimed.

“Brother Ed! You’re back!” Nina shrieked happily, letting go of Elicia to fling herself at him. He crouched down to catch her in a tight hug, and she responded in kind, her little arms thrown around his neck.

“Hey, it’s good to see you,” Ed rasped, the words catching on the involuntary purr he tried to stuff back down.

Nina pushed her head against his, and he returned the gesture fondly, but he was looking at Gracia. She met his gaze evenly. Even though half of him was nearly dizzy with relief and _happy-warm-family-safe_ feelings, he was still worried, deep in his gut. Gracia seemed to sense his worry somehow, even as Nina obliviously chattered about the walk they’d been taking right in his ear.

“And then we saw some flowers, and Mama let us smell them, and then--”

“Nina, dear, why don’t you tell Ed about your day upstairs,” Gracia suggested as she walked over with Elicia’s hand in her own.

“Okay!” Nina agreed enthusiastically. She wiggled out of the embrace and then grabbed his hand to start tugging him up the stairs.

Ed pinned his ears back and cast a nervous look over his shoulder at Gracia. “Right. Um, don’t worry about your door. I’ll fix it.”

Gracia raised her eyebrows, but didn’t ask.

At the top of the stairs, Nina stopped and gasped dramatically. She tugged on Ed’s sleeve and pointed to the door of their apartment, her mouth a perfect ‘o’. “Did you do that?” she asked.

“I’m gonna fix it,” Ed assured her, slipping out of her grip and walking towards the free-swinging panel of wood. He realigned it with the handle and lock portion, then clapped his hands and transmuted the wood back into one solid piece.

He twisted one ear back when he heard Gracia approach from behind, and stepped out of her way.

“If you like, I can give you a key,” she said with a teasing note in her voice.

Ed flattened his ears in embarrassment. “You don’t have to do that.”

Gracia gave a small, close-mouthed chuckle as she unlocked the door and ushered everyone else in ahead of her. Nina remained glued to Ed’s side, his tail grasped in her hands.

“Are you gonna stay this time, brother?” Nina asked, staring up at Ed with wide eyes.

“I wish I could, Nina,” Ed answered honestly, placing his hand on her head and messing up her bangs. “This is actually going to be a short visit. I just wanted to see you, and talk to Gr-- your mom,” he corrected, thinking back to how she’d started calling Gracia ‘mama.’

“Can I get you anything, Edward?” Gracia asked as she helped Elicia peel off her outside jacket. “Tea? Coffee?”

Ed shook his head. “I just need to talk to you.”

“Of course,” Gracia replied, though she seemed a bit surprised. “Let’s go into the kitchen.”

Ed nodded. “Let go, Nina,” he coaxed, gently prying Nina’s hands off his tail. “Stay in the living room. I’ll just be a second.”

“But I wanna talk to you too,” Nina whined, trailing after him.

“Why don’t you play with Elicia,” Ed suggested patiently. “If you can stay in the living room until we’re done talking, I’ll stay and play with you for a bit.”

Nina clasped her hands together under her chin and stared up at him with sparkling eyes. “You promise?”

Ed smiled reflexively. “Yeah, I promise.”

Nina nodded and bounded over to Elicia, who was already pulling toys out of a chest in the corner of the room.

Gracia was waiting for him in the doorway to the kitchen with a wistful expression and a sort of knowing twinkle in her eye.

“You’ll be a great dad some day,” she said, catching Ed off guard.

For a split second, the idea warmed Ed’s chest. He did like kids, and he always figured he’d have some of his own one day in the far off future, but… The warmth in his chest was suddenly doused. He swallowed and decided not to inform Gracia that chimeras can’t have kids.

“Thanks,” was all he said as he joined her in the kitchen.

They sat at the table, and Ed got straight to the point.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done, Gracia, so I feel like it’s only fair that I tell you,” he began, hands balled into fists on his knees. “You and Nina and Elicia might not be safe here. What happened to your husband… it was my fault. He got involved because of me and now there’s a possibility that you might be a target because I care about Nina and…” Ed shook his head, feeling his throat closing up slightly. “I think you should leave the city, if you can. If she got hurt because of me, I...”

“Edward.” Gracia’s calm voice snapped Ed out of his spiralling thoughts, and he glanced up at her kind, motherly face. “Please don’t blame yourself for what happened to Maes. He was going to get into trouble eventually, with the way that he never leaves anything alone. It isn’t your fault. I understand your concern, but we’re not going anywhere,” she said.

Conflicting amounts of relief and fear surged up in Ed. “But--”

Gracia shook her head. “Central is my home. It always has been. I was born here, and so was Elicia. I was married here. I want my girls to grow up in the city that I love.”

Ed lowered his head again. “Okay. Okay, just, please be careful. Lay low as much as you can.”

“You’re the only high-profile thing in our lives right now, Ed,” Gracia pointed out. His stomach dropped. Was she telling him to stay away?

It made sense, of course, and Ed had known it was better that way, but hearing Gracia imply that she agreed still wounded him a little. Even if he was in Central for a long time going forward, he was going to have to stop visiting. It would just paint a bigger target on their backs. The thought made him squirm with displeasure.

Ed nodded. “Right. I’ll only stay another five minutes, then.”

“Are you going to see Colonel Mustang anytime soon?” Gracia asked, surprising Ed once again. He supposed it made sense that they knew each other.

“Yeah, I should see him later today,” he told her as he stood up.

“Would you mind passing a message along for me?” Gracia wore a small smile, but her eyes were guarded. Ed pricked his ears forward, intrigued.

“What’s the message?”

“Tell him that I’m still waiting for answers.” She twisted her wedding band as she said it.

Ed cocked his head slightly. He remembered what Ross said Mustang had told her. He’d yet to corner the man about it himself. Had he said something similar to Gracia? If it was true, and Hughes was still alive (Ed wanted to hope) then that was a whole other part to the conspiracy they had to tackle.

“I’ll tell him,” Ed assured her. “He owes me some answers as well.”

“Alright. Thank you.” Gracia dipped her head. “Take care of yourself, Edward.”

Ed nodded back. “You too, Gracia.”

He walked out of the kitchen and was immediately accosted by Nina. For five minutes, he allowed himself to forget the weight on his chest. He allowed himself to tickle her and laugh and let her pet his ears.

He didn’t tell her about Alexander. She wouldn’t understand.

Ed only realised his five minutes were up when Gracia cleared her throat from the kitchen doorway.

“Come on, girls, say goodbye to Edward. It’s time to make lunch.”

“Aww,” Nina and Elicia chorused.

“Can’t you stay and have lunch with us?” Nina pleaded. “And dinner, and breakfast tomorrow?”

Ed stretched luxuriously from his position on the carpet and let out a yawn. “As much as I would love to, I have work to do,” he said as he dragged himself to his feet. Nina immediately pressed herself against his legs.

“You’ll come back tomorrow though?”

Regret chomped at Ed’s heart. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” He placed his hand on her head again. “I’m happy I got to see you today, but it might be awhile before I can visit again.”

“Oh.” Nina hugged his waist tighter, and tears swam in her eyes.

_Sad. Comfort._

Ed was dropping to his knee and hugging her before he even realized he was doing it. “Don’t cry, Nina,” he murmured, nuzzling her hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Why can’t you stay all the time? Why do you have to go? I want you to stay,” Nina blubbered.

“I know, but there are people who need my help. Like Alphonse and the Colonel. Especially the Colonel. He’s useless on his own.”

Nina gave a wet giggle into his shoulder. Elicia, apparently feeling left out, came over and squeezed herself into the hug as well. Ed allowed it for a second, then reluctantly disentangled himself from the children and stood up.

“I have to go. Be good, okay?”

“Okay…” Nina’s voice wobbled, and she rubbed her eyes. “Promise to come back soon?”

Ed stepped towards the door. “As soon as I can,” he agreed, his eyes flickering to Gracia. _As soon as it’s safe,_ he tried to tell her with his eyes. She just gave a small, tight smile. It would have to be enough.

Everyone waved goodbye, and Ed left the apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

He was so tired. But his day wasn’t over yet.

Mustang’s Central office wasn’t like the one he had back in Eastern Command. There was no privacy, for one, his desk was just out in the open, overseeing the smaller desks of his new, less-trusted subordinates. Ed never thought he would miss those stupid couches, but here he was.

Ed spotted Mustang as soon as he entered the room -- he was standing by the window with an open book in his hand, and he had a deep frown on his face that tugged at his eyebrows and made him look older than he was. The clerical busybodies stopped what they were doing to stare at Ed as he sauntered into the room, since they didn’t have the three years of experience watching the youngest state alchemist come and go that the Eastern officers did. He sent a glare to each of them, and as his eyes passed over them they quickly ducked their heads and tried to look busy.

By the time Ed reached Mustang, he could tell the man was deep in thought and not actually reading. The book itself was some kind of statistical ledger, but it was just an excuse for Mustang to stand still and stare with unfocused eyes.

“Hey Colonel,” Ed said flatly from a few paces behind.

Mustang honest-to-God _jumped,_ the ledger in his hand snapping shut as he whirled around to face the younger alchemist.

“Fullmetal!” he exclaimed. “You startled me. Normally I can hear you coming a mile away in your ridiculous boots.”

Ed frowned. “Pay more attention, dipshit. Where’s Alphonse?”

Mustang sighed and set the book down on his desk. “I had Lieutenant Breda escort him where he needed to go,” he said, tactfully not specifying where that was. “He mentioned that you haven’t eaten yet today. Why don’t we have our meeting over lunch?”

Ed’s stomach keened in agreement. His hunger aside, it was a good excuse to get out of the office and away from potential military eavesdroppers. “Your treat?” he asked.

“Fine, since you can’t even afford to make a phone call at the moment, it seems.” Mustang gave him a hard look. “And you’ll owe me.”

Ed’s hackles raised at the implication, but he just shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Whatever.”

The restaurant Mustang had in mind was apparently far enough away to justify using his car. There was a lingering scent of perfume on the passenger seat, day-old but still chemical enough to make Ed wrinkle his nose. He wasn’t going to say anything about it until the Colonel had to look at him and open his fat mouth.

“Something the matter, Fullmetal?”

Ed shut the car door with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “No. I can tell you had a girl in here yesterday.”

Mustang let out a surprised laugh as he started the car. “Can you? Interesting.”

“I don’t know how you find time for dating with all this shit going on,” Ed muttered, folding his arms.

“One makes time for things that are important,” Mustang replied mildly. He pulled the car onto a main street, headed towards the north side of the city.

“How is dating more important than rooting out corruption in the military?” Ed asked snappishly.

Mustang chuckled again. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

As much as Ed wanted to argue, he still hadn’t slept, and now that he was finally sitting down and in the presence of someone who he… well, not trusted fully, but trusted not to try and kill him if he closed his eyes for a few minutes, he found his eyelids getting a little heavy. They slipped shut outside of his volition, and the rumbling of the car with its smells of perfume and _older-ally_ Mustang faded into muted nothingness.

His dream was hazy, a mix of memories (blood in his mouth, under his nails, on the floor of his house) and strange sensations _(can’t-won’t die,_ the feeling of being too high from the ground, vertigo, _danger)_ that were hard to piece together. He felt watched. _Power-lurking, restless-awful-sire, in the ground, surrounding us crawling-awful-pain--_

The next thing Ed knew, he was waking up in Mustang’s parked car. He was wedged into the corner of the seat and the window, making his neck and shoulder ache slightly from the awkward angle when he finally shifted. There was drool at the corner of his mouth. He wiped it with his sleeve and glared at his commanding officer in the seat beside him.

“How long was I asleep?” Ed asked Mustang in an accusatory tone.

“About thirty minutes,” Mustang replied as he closed the little notebook in his hand and tucked it into some inner pocket of his uniform. “You seemed like you needed it, so I didn’t wake you. The restaurant is just around the corner.”

“We couldn’t’ve grabbed something a little closer to your office?” Ed muttered as he adjusted his hat in the rearview mirror.

Rather than answer, Mustang gave one of his stupid mysterious smiles that meant _I have a motive but you’ll have to figure it out for yourself._ Then he got out of the car.

Ed followed, stretching as he stepped onto the street. He’d never been to this part of Central before; none of the buildings looked familiar except for the consistent style of architecture. Some of these structures were over a hundred years old. It was weird knowing that while they were being built, Father had probably been lurking in his underground lair where he still sat to this day.

The restaurant Mustang led him to was small and quaint. It had flowers on the sill but only one or two other customers. The young lady who greeted them perked up considerably when she laid eyes on Mustang, which made Ed want to roll his eyes. They took a table as far from the other customers as possible.

Curiously enough, Mustang pulled his little notebook back out, tore off a page, and folded it neatly in half. It had writing on it, but Ed hadn’t been able to read it before Mustang folded it.

“What’s that for?” Ed asked.

Mustang ignored him for the purposes of delivering a shining smile to the lady as she returned with a pair of menus.

“Thank you, miss,” Mustang said in his smooth baritone. He held the folded piece of paper out to her between two fingers. “This is for you.”

The lady accepted the paper and returned Mustang’s smile. “What can I get for you two gents?”

They placed their orders, and when the lady walked away, Ed stared at Mustang in disbelief.

“What did you give her? Your phone number?”

Mustang folded his hands in front of his mouth in that familiar scheming pose. “We have quite a few things to discuss, Fullmetal. Where would you like to start?” he said, ignoring Ed’s question entirely.

“You’re unbelievable,” Ed scoffed with a shake of his head. Then, hoping to catch Mustang off-guard, he said, “I spoke to Gracia. She asked me to tell you that she’s still waiting for answers.”

To Ed’s disappointment, Mustang’s only reaction was a faint flicker of surprise across his eyes; the rest of his expression and posture remained completely neutral. “I see. Well I’m afraid I have to admit that I don’t yet have all the answers I’d like to.”

Ed narrowed his eyes. “Do those answers have anything to do with what you said to Lieutenant Ross about General Hughes?”

Mustang lowered his hands so that Ed could see the hard line of his frown. “You mean before I carried out her execution for the murder of her superior officer?”

Anger simmered in Ed’s belly at the antagonistic nature of the words, but he understood from the hard edge of his voice what Mustang was trying to say. _We can’t discuss this here, people could be listening._

“I’m going to be frank,” Mustang continued, “the present situation is a little bit bleak. We’re not going to give up, of course, but I could use some good news right about now. Have you had a chance to read the notes I gave you? Was any of it helpful?”

Ed crossed his arms and slumped backwards in his seat. “Nothin’ in there I didn’t figure anyway. I had to fix some inconsistencies in your theories but you did a pretty okay job considering bio-alchemy isn’t really your field.”

Mustang’s mouth twisted up into an ironic smile. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Emphasis on the _almost,_ Colonel dumbass,” Ed blustered. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Well, you don’t need to.” Mustang sat back in his chair as well, leaving one hand resting on the table as he regarded Ed. “There’s something I don’t get. You didn’t turn out like Tucker’s hypotheses projected. You altered the transmutation somehow, didn’t you?”

Ed met Mustang’s gaze defiantly. “Yeah, I did. So what?”

The older man sighed, and a bit of frustration leaked out from under his laidback facade. “So, that would have been useful to know sooner. You told me you took the girl’s place in the transmutation, but you didn’t mention that you _altered an active array_ to do so. That’s highly improbable alchemy -- most people who try things like that get nothing but rebounds.”

Ed sunk a little lower in his seat. “Why does it fuckin’ matter? This happened months ago.”

Mustang tapped his finger on the table a few times, considering something. “Could you do it again?”

“Alter an active array? Maybe. Depends on the array. This was different, there were souls involved.”

Mustang’s finger stilled and his eyes sharpened. “Can you please clarify what you mean by that?”

Ed reluctantly explained about what had happened during the fight with Gluttony and Envy in the forest, being as vague as he could so that Mustang would understand but a random passerby wouldn’t. Getting swallowed, the false portal, using the _real_ portal to escape, and then his theory about Alexander’s soul based on his vision when he’d passed through the gate.

Halfway through his explanation, their food was brought out, and Ed rushed the rest of his summary through mouthfuls of steak and potatoes.

“You keep mentioning this ‘gate’,” Mustang said, not really touching his food. “This is the same gate you’ve made reference to before, yes?”

Ed nodded, his mouth full. He had never fully explained about the gate, no matter how hard Mustang pressed him. He enjoyed the fact that there was something he knew that Mustang didn’t, and the fact that Mustang so obviously _wanted_ to know made it even better. But the situation they were in called for Ed to put aside such childish actions. The gate was relevant to what Father wanted -- why else would he attempt to create an artificial portal? It was better that Mustang was in the loop.

“But what does this have to do with how you altered Tucker’s array?” Mustang asked with growing impatience.

“Very few people can do what I do, Colonel,” Ed replied dryly. “Abilities like mine will cost you an arm and a leg.”

Mustang’s eyes widened fractionally, then narrowed in understanding, and finally he laughed. “Wow, Fullmetal. That’s dark, even for you.”

Ed shrugged nonchalantly, but he couldn’t help the little blossom of pride in his chest at getting Mustang to laugh. He quickly quashed it, knowing that the only reason he felt it at all was because the guy was so damn hard to impress. Not that he _wanted_ to impress him. Not that Mustang’s approval meant anything to him, hard-won as it often felt.

“I’d be very interested in the possibility of you pulling off another active array alteration. If you figure out a way to do it again, let me know,” Mustang ordered, finally taking a bite of his food.

“Sure.” Ed finished scarfing down the last of his meal. “What are you going to do about our hostage situation?”

Mustang paused mid-chew to give Ed a warning look. After swallowing, he replied, “We can talk about that later. Meet me back here with your brother after eight. We'll be able to speak freely then. Anything else?”

Ed narrowed his eyes at Mustang. Did he have some sort of arrangement with the owners of this place? That piece of paper he had slipped the server, Ed realized, had probably been a request of some kind, not his phone number.

 _Damn it, he’s good,_ Ed thought reluctantly.

“Know anything about Xingese alkahestry?" he asked. "Al and I might start looking into it.”

“Afraid I don’t,” Mustang answered, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Why don’t you ask your friend with the ponytail?”

Ed crossed his arms and muttered, “Useless prince. He’s with the enemy right now.”

Mustang lowered his voice. “Another hostage?”

“Something like that. Are we done here?”

Mustang’s lips quirked up in an amused little twist. “Yes, you’re free to go. Remember, eight o’clock.”

Ed stood up, turned to go, then paused. Over his shoulder, he asked, "Can I have the Lieutenant's address?"

Mustang cocked a surprised eyebrow at him. "Lieutenant Hawkeye? Why?"

The gun he hadn't used was heavy in his coat pocket. "Got something of hers I need to return."

Mustang considered this, giving Ed an appraising look, then took his notebook back out and scribbled down an address. He passed the note to Ed without a word, but his eyes were calculating. Ed muttered a thanks and turned to actually go this time. Stupid, conniving Colonel. It was impossible for Ed to tell what he was thinking, most of the time.

It took him a bit of wandering to find the address, and saw it was an apartment building not unlike the one the Hughes’ lived in. A little newer, if anything. Ed climbed the stairs, and when he reached the right numbered door he stopped and sniffed.

_Dog._

Shit. He’d forgotten about Black Hayate. Heaving a sigh, Ed knocked and braced himself to get barked at.

As soon as the door opened, Hayate bolted towards Ed, and he scrambled away instinctively; it wasn’t until Hawkeye was ordering Hayate to heel that Ed realized he was halfway up the wall with his automail claws sunk into the plaster to keep him off the floor.

 _Damn it, Alexander,_ Ed thought, miffed. He dropped clumsily to the floor and performed some hasty alchemy to fix the holes he’d left in the wall.

Hawkeye watched with banked curiosity. Her hair was wet and she had a towel around her shoulders; she must’ve just come out of the shower. Seeing her in civilian clothes was still jarring -- the first time Ed had seen her out of uniform he actually hadn’t recognized her.

“Good afternoon, Edward,” Hawkeye said. “Sorry about Hayate. Would you like to come in? I can put him in the bathroom.”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Ed replied gratefully.

~~~

As Hawkeye finished her recount of the Ishvalan war of extermination and Mustang’s goals for the future, Ed kept his eyes in his half-empty coffee cup. He tried not to feel queasy. He had known Hawkeye and Mustang had been in that war, he knew what people said about State Alchemists, but having a vague awareness of something was not the same as hearing a detailed, first-hand account. It didn’t help that Hawkeye had been meticulously cleaning a gun while she calmly described the suffering of a people she had helped eradicate.

“He can’t seriously think that will work,” Ed managed to say upon learning that Mustang wanted the war criminals of the Ishvalan conflict put to trial. “That’s-- it’s suicide! He’d have to be an idiot not to realize that.”

Hawkeye checked the safety of the newly put back together gun and set it aside. Only then did she finally look at Ed. “What is your opinion of the Colonel, Edward?”

“Why?” Ed retorted, feeling defensive. “You gonna run back to him and tell him what I said so he can… I dunno, manipulate me more, or something?”

“You asked about the war, which led to the topic of him,” Hawkeye replied. “Consider me curious. I promise that nothing we discuss tonight will be repeated.”

Ed narrowed his eyes and lifted his mug. “Even if he orders you to tell him?”

Hawkeye smiled, her eyes glittering with amusement. “Believe it or not, I am capable of saying ‘no’ to him.”

Ed considered that for a second as he sipped his lukewarm coffee. "...I don't know how I feel," he eventually muttered. The memory of Mustang's icy, unflinching expression as he stood over the fake corpse of Maria Ross was seared into Ed's brain. It had been a little too convincing. Compared to the prickly but witless Colonel Ed had come to know (or thought he’d come to know), _that_ had all too easily fit with the image of the monstrous Flame Alchemist who destroyed swathes of countryside with a snap of his fingers. "I think he has a capacity for cruelty that I don’t like," Ed added when Hawkeye said nothing.

Hawkeye propped her elbows on the table and linked her fingers together under her chin. It was scarily reminiscent of the way Mustang himself often sat. “Don’t we all have the capacity for cruelty?” she asked.

Ed pinned his ears back. “Well, yeah, but people like him are different. He has... power.” Mustang hadn’t been punished at all for striking Ed, or for apparently charcoaling a murder suspect. Nobody else had known it was an act, and still they let him get away with it.

“Do you think he doesn’t know that already?”

Ed looked up, realizing his gaze had drifted, and blinked at Hawkeye. She was smiling at him patiently. He said nothing.

“The Colonel is well aware of the cruelty he is capable of,” she continued. “He has checks and balances in place to ensure that his cruelty never again outweighs his kindness.”

“Let me guess, you’re one of them?” Ed asked drily.

Hawkeye smiled again and lowered one of her hands to the table. “Yes. But so are you.”

Ed snorted. “Me? I’m pretty sure the Colonel has never listened to me a day in his life.”

“That’s not true,” Hawkeye argued. “You and Alphonse provide an important perspective to him. I know he’s terrible at showing it, but he values you a lot, Ed.”

He thought of Tucker’s notebook.

“Even if he does have good intentions,” Ed begrudged, “that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous.”

Hawkeye’s gaze pinned him to the chair. “Dangerous to you?”

Ed squirmed under the scrutiny, ears folding back as he grappled with conflicting feelings. “I’m not _scared_ of him,” he bit out. “And in a life or death situation I would trust him, because he’s--” _older-stronger-ally, maybe not-safe (hit me) saved me though,_ “--proven reliable in a crisis. But why does he have to _lie_ to us?”

Hawkeye hummed in acknowledgement. “I’ll admit that sometimes his motives are a mystery even to me. I’m a sniper, not a strategist. He sees things on a much larger scale than I ever could.”

Ed frowned. “So you’re saying that you don’t know, but you trust that he has his reasons?”

“Pretty much,” she answered, meeting his gaze evenly.

He swirled his coffee, still frowning. “I’m not happy with that.”

“Then ask him yourself. Or don’t,” Hawkeye added when Ed tensed defensively. She leveled him with another smile, managing patient and kind yet somehow not condescending. “You’re more than capable of making decisions, Edward, I’ve seen you do it. Part of being an adult is living with the consequences of your actions. Can you live with not asking him? Can you handle what he might say if you do? These are the things you have to consider. Inaction is still a choice.”

”I know that,” Ed snapped, tail flicking in irritation.

Hawkeye folded her hands together on the table in front of her. “Then what is there left to discuss?”

Ed scowled into his mug for a few seconds. “Did he tell you that he thinks Lt. Colonel Hughes is still alive?” he asked, watching her keenly.

Her only outward reaction to that was to raise her chin slightly. Ed couldn't read her expression at all. “That sounds like a conversation for the Colonel.”

“Don't give me that. I'm asking _you_.”

She hesitated, her eyes lowering. “He did inform me he had suspicions. Please don't do anything rash, Ed. Let the Colonel do what he's good at.”

What Mustang was good at. Plotting and deceiving and _getting away with murder._

Ed was glad Ross was still alive, and he knew Mustang was responsible for that, but still the vision of him standing over what Ed had thought was Ross’ burned corpse wouldn’t leave his mind. The cold indifference in Mustang’s eyes haunted Ed’s dreams. They were not simply the eyes of a good actor.

“He’s killed a lot of people, hasn’t he,” Ed murmured, his stomach churning.

“Yes,” Hawkeye confirmed. “So have I.”

Ed shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was hardly a surprise, she had just finished telling him all about Ishval, but hearing her say it so bluntly was still a shock. He couldn’t reconcile her soft features and steady hands with what he imagined a killer to look like -- someone like Barry the chopper, bloodthirsty and unhinged.

“It’s different when you’re at war, right?” Ed asked, tightening his grip on his mug. “You were fighting to survive…”

“We were fighting to kill,” Hawkeye corrected. “It’s what soldiers do. I was a fool to believe it would be anything else, and so was he. Even if it was in defense of our own lives or someone else’s, the result of killing someone is always the same. They die, and you are responsible.”

Ed swallowed and stared deeply into his coffee dregs like they would somehow give him a more pleasant answer.

They sat there quietly for a minute. Eventually Hawkeye turned to look at the wall clock behind her, then back at Ed. “What will you do now?” she asked.

Ed knocked back the bitter remains of his drink and set the mug down carefully. “Al and I are meeting with the Colonel at eight.”

“Well, you have plenty of time until then, why don’t you find a room and get some rest. You look dead on your feet.”

Ed scoffed. “Thanks, Lieutenant.”

Hawkeye smiled and stood, reaching for his mug. “You’re welcome.”

Ed stood too, feeling awkward suddenly. “Uh, but… really, thank you, Lieutenant Hawkeye. For talking to me about this stuff.”

Her eyes softened, and for just a second Ed didn’t see a soldier, a sniper; he didn’t even see a sinner trying to atone for her past. Instead all he saw was a tired young woman. She was younger than Ed’s mom would have been, if she’d lived. That thought struck him particularly hard for some reason.

“If you ever have any more questions, I would be happy to speak with you again. About anything,” she replied.

Ed could only nod, mesmerized by the fact that Lieutenant Hawkeye truly was just a _person._

She saw him out of her apartment, and he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets.

“See you at work, or something,” Ed said as farewell.

“Give Alphonse my regards,” Hawkeye replied, leaning on the doorframe.

Ed nodded again, and then looked forward. He was too exhausted to think.

~~~

Just after eight o’clock, Ed an Al found their way back to the restaurant where Ed had his lunch with Mustang. All the lights were out, and the sign on the front said they were closed. Ed knocked anyway, and after a few seconds, the lock clicked and out peered the server lady from before.

“Ah, perfect,” she said, and ushered them inside. “Mr. Mustang is waiting. Through there. He knows how to lock up when you’re finished.” She pointed towards the kitchen, where the only light was coming through. She then gave a clandestine smile and a wink before seeing herself out the door.

Ed took off his hat and strained his ears forward, listening for danger. All he picked up on was the hum of electricity and his own heartbeat. He strode forwards and barged into the kitchen; Mustang was sitting at a small table wedged in the corner, out of the way of the kitchen appliances and countertops. He looked up when the brothers entered, and gave them each a nod.

“What sort of underhanded deal do you have with the owners of this place?” Ed asked as he waltzed in. There was another rickety chair across from Mustang, but Ed chose instead to hop up onto the counter, legs and tail dangling off the side. “Are they some kinda front and you decided to look the other way? They owe you money or something?”

“Family friends, actually,” Mustang replied. Ed narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t tell if Mustang was bullshitting. “We can speak as freely as we want, here. No bugs, no wiretaps. So. Where shall we start?”

Ed gave him a hard look. "Tell us about Lt. Colonel Hughes."


End file.
